2010

I'm a little depressed about 2010. October 22 will mark the end of my forties, which is a big deal for me in so many ways. For one thing, it means that I only have ten months to become a cougar. Is there even a category for women in their fifties who have sex with younger men (the rare snow leopard perhaps)? For another thing, 50 means I will definitely be on the downward and no doubt very slippery slope of my life. I probably passed my chronological pinnacle some years ago (unless I live to age 100 or more, which I really really hope I don't do; my plan is to start engaging in risky behaviours at age 70 – smoking, foregoing seat belts, having unprotected sex – to minimize my chances of becoming a centenarian), but psychologically and physically 50 seems to mark the end of so many things. I would list them, but I don't have the energy (which would be on the list if I did have the energy to produce one).

Work is a bit of a worry too. Funding for the research project I've been working on since 2001 ends at the end of 2010, and unless we can find more $$$... the idea of my job ending is not just depressing because of the loss of income. Work, I realize, is a bit of a social event for me (which is probably leading you to question the quality of my social life). Although I really don't have that much in common with my co-workers – for example, one of them doesn't appear to believe in recycling and I am constantly inspecting the contents of her garbage for stuff that can be put in the blue box instead, another one cut short a stay in New York City so that she could shop at an outlet mall in Pennsylvania, and yet another spends substantial amounts of time on the internet cooking fake food and decorating her fake café with moose antlers – they are very dear to me. And entertaining. The non-believer in recycling believed for years that her cousin had graduated from the Disney University with a law degree. “The Disney University? Who would trust a lawyer who has that degree hanging on their wall?” But she was adamant. We finally did a Google search and found out that while there really is a Disney University, its mission is to teach Disney employees customer service skills and how to talk in a Mickey falsetto. I remain unsure as to whether her cousin actually has a law degree, or whether her aunt and uncle lied about that to my coworker as well. I fear that if my job ends, all my blogging material will too.

This year is also the year that Lost ends. It's like I've been reading an un-put-downable novel rivalling A Chronicle of Ancient Sunlight in length (information supplied courtesy of Deloney) and I'm finally coming to the last page, at which point the characters will desert me. I will be bereft.* I will wear black.* Which thankfully is slimming. Fat cougars are an abomination, and unlikely to catch any prey.

To the hunt...

*Statements supplied courtesy of comments on Indigo's blog.