One thing I don’t think I’ve heard so far in connection with the new year, is the connection with the number thirteen – a number about which many people hold a variety of superstitions. Some believe it is good, others bad, and some think that being superstitious about a number is just a load of old pigswallop. As an example, my grandmother on my mother’s side used to avoid changing the calendar on the days featuring a thirteen, believing it to be bad luck. This fact, her superstition, is what set me thinking along these lines in the first place; which made me muse that it is curious that I’ve not come across anyone making references to superstition in respect of 2013.
Something else I came across this morning, while checking out my news feed on Facebook, was someone speaking of the new year in terms of ‘possibilities’ and not the tired old ‘New Years’ Resolutions’ which, let’s face it, most people break anyway sooner or later. I liked this way of putting things, because I am one of the ‘most.’ I’m absolutely dreadful at keeping those pesky resolutions. I think I’m threatened by them; pressured so that what was once something that I wanted to do – was excited to do – become a chore, loses its appeal and inevitably gets excused, forgotten and otherwise just plain dropped.
So, thinking along those lines, I started thinking about what could be in store as far as possibilities for the rest of this year, what would I like, what holds me back, what’s out there to move me to better things in this year; different things… and then came the phone call.
There’s a line in Douglas Adams’ wonderful book, The Hitchhikers’ Guide To the Galaxy, where the ‘book’ observes that, “…careless talk costs lives.” and I had a moment of that this morning when my mother asked me when I was going back to Cairo, and to let her know so that she could, “worry some more.” Well… she’s not the only one that worries, most people I know worry about me being out there, and that includes me! Honestly, I have never wanted less to be in a place than Cairo. The thought of going back there has actually started making me feel physically ill. If I thought there were any way I could avoid that fate, I would.
And of course therein lies the elephant… therein lies being trapped only by myself. There are always options, and I have to keep reminding myself of that, because otherwise, I end up, like now, tying myself up in knots and becoming less and less the person I truly am just by the thought of being tied to a physical location that I feel has already stomped it’s big feet on my psyche. When I’m there, I’m negative, I’m bitter, my creativity is stifled, and all of that leaves me feeling miserable and lost. Why am I even thinking about going back, no matter what the necessity? There must be other ways, other options, other possibilities…
As far some of those possibilities are concerned, I want to read more… and I’d kinda like to enjoy it, and I will, I promise myself, get more writing time – I will finish Use’ara at least. But the biggest possibility I’m looking at, looking for right now is a way to get the ‘hell outa dodge’ and to do so as soon as possible.