Scary week

It was a scary week, and not in a fun spooky season way.

First and foremost, there was a situation at the kids’ school that had been brewing for a couple of weeks. There was a tragic suicide of a boy at a neighboring high school - he jumped off an open hallway after a bullying incident. Of course all of this was caught on video; apparently some kids at my boys’ school clipped the video and kids at the other school saw it and got pissed and threatened a mass shooting for last Friday. The whole week we got endless calls from the principal assuring us the police were investigating and that school was safe; every time I went there were police patrols all over the place. On Friday I was a wreck trying to figure out if I should let the kids go or not - the kids didn’t want to go, but not because they were afraid; because their friends weren’t going. If they had been afraid I never would have had them go. But my thought process was if anything Friday was probably the safest day to be there as everyone, including LAPD, was on high alert, and who announces in advance what day they’re going to shoot up a school? When I went to drop them off, the school was a ghost town - literally only one car dropping off one kid. I proceeded to freak out for the remainder of the day and tell myself, “that might have been the worst decision of your entire life”. The phone rang off the hook all day from the school, but only about a football game that had been scheduled between these two schools on Monday, and how first the game was postponed, then moved to a different location, then they were going to have metal detectors. When I finally got to pick up my still ok children at the end of the day, they said about 1/3 of the school was absent and all their quizzes and tests had been cancelled. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when we were all safe at home. But now comes the scary part - what happens when the threat seems to be gone and the patrols go away? Isn’t next week actually more dangerous? It’s not like this is all magically going to go away. I’m scared.

In the middle of all this, I had my annual checkup, and it went just as I had feared. I still have high blood pressure, and to add to the fun I have borderline high cholesterol and am .1 into pre-diabetes territory. My doctor put me on some low dose blood pressure medication and I will check back in in two weeks. I have also decided to really make a solid effort to lose ten pounds which might make some or all of this go away. I’ve been wanting to lose weight anyway and this is definitely more powerful incentive than just wanting to fit into pants. So the hardcore diet has begun. But my sister warned me it may not be just weight but might also be genetics. She said her numbers starting heading up at my age, too. I’m pissed about it. I suppose I still have that old arrogance from my childhood religion that somehow I’m special and bad health things won’t happen to me (which automatically means people who do have health issues somehow deserve it or did something wrong). But also the fact that I am in way better shape than most women I know my age - I do some form of exercise practically every day since I have so much free time, and have so many good habits most people don’t have (cook most of my food, vegetarian, never smoker or drinker, eat whole grains and beans and vegetables every day). So how the fuck did I end up with stage 2 hypertension and pre-diabetic and borderline high cholesterol at 54?? Sadly, it could all just be my genes. But I’m still determined to lose 10 lbs by December and see if that changes anything. If nothing else I’ll be able to fit into some pants. 

My ballot for the mid terms never arrived, even though I saw a picture of it from my “informed delivery” that it was supposed to show up a week ago Friday. I called the Secretary of State but they said to give it a few more days. I’ll call again tomorrow. What are the odds that my ballot would get lost on this the most important election of our lifetimes?? So now I have to chase it down. There’s so much fear - terror, really - about this election, and as well there should be. I’m still perhaps foolishly clinging to the hope that our institutions will hold and despite what will no doubt be his many efforts, our results will be in our favor. But most people around me are freaking out, and you can feel the tension everywhere. Everyone is stressed. People think there’s going to be a false flag terrorist attack and he’ll declare martial law and cancel the election (highly unlikely), or that Elon will interfere (again?), or that “they” will just refuse to seat our newly elected representatives (kind of impossible). I know he’s going to declare it all fake and try to seize ballots and try all sorts of shenanigans but personally I believe we’ll prevail and we’ll finally see the beginning of the end of his reign of terror. But boy is this a terrible, anxious time. And imagine trying to DIET during this when your favorite comfort is eating??? Omg.

October

I did my annual Halloween decorating today - hauling the skeleton, two pumpkin lanterns, and tub of smaller items out of the shed, and decorated the porch and mantel. As is always the thought these days, I wondered how many more times I’ll do this. Will I continue to decorate even when the kids are gone? Probably not. We never get any trick-or-treaters and nobody else on the block decorates. We’re just not in that kind of neighborhood. It’s an odd thought to think that one day in a few years I just won’t do it anymore, and nobody will care.

It’s a bit of a bleak post today, sorry. I leave for Northern California tomorrow after just returning from Chicago last weekend, and I’m exhausted and not looking forward to it. I’m especially dreading this weekend now because I find myself in a sticky situation - there’s a young girl I know a little bit through dancing who has taken it upon herself to call out my event for various and vague issues, mostly around the dance contests, in a series of Odyssey-length Facebook posts (which thankfully get very little traction since they’re too long), which the other night culminated in her sending me an epic email AND private message saying she wants to meet with me at the event this weekend to discuss these things. I stupidly agreed - unfortunately I can’t ignore these people - and now I wish I hadn’t. She hasn’t seen my message agreeing to meet, though, so maybe I’ll get out of it. 

I’ve been through this a thousand times - every year, when the majority of dancers don’t win the contests, they all flock to social media to air their grievances like it’s Festivus, never once entertaining the concept that maybe they just weren’t good enough to beat out the other people who danced that day. I feel like this behavior has always existed but it’s been ramping up in the last few years - it’s either a generational thing (I do think GenZ relies way too much on authority figures to curate a perfect, friction-free experience for them wherever they go); and/or the prevalence of social media means we now all have access to what used to be people just grumbling amongst themselves. And I’m used to this, and accept that my role as the leader of a Very Big Thing means I’ll always be accused and maligned and beat up on, but boy is it exhausting and infuriating at times. Now is one of those times.

There’s something, too, about this horrific Cornell university story (as an example of how we progressives seem to have accomplished absolutely nothing over the last fifty years if things like this still happen and are still not dealt with appropriately), balanced against the extreme left currents that I constantly have to navigate in running my event, that make me just feel utterly hopeless. Nobody can just be kind and reasonable. Everything has to be so all or nothing, black and white. It’s very culty, and I find it all very triggering. Also I just finished a novel which touched on Pinochet’s brutal military coup in Chile and I’m just triggered all over the place.

And yet I have to face my community for the first time when I go DJ tonight, and then get up bright and early to go sing all weekend in a depressing foggy meth-ruined Northern California small town, in which I will have to pin a wig to my head and slather my face with makeup and ruin my arthritic toe in uncomfortable shoes that are supposed to be good for my toe but aren’t, and be kind and gracious and remember lyrics and try to make small talk with people I barely know. And I must rally whatever ounce of energy I have left to do this, because I’m a goddamned professional and the show must go on no matter what I’m feeling. Also, I know I can come home and collapse because at last my endless marathon of duties are over and I can finally just hermit for a while. Coming up is cooler temps, our first visit back to the cabin, the holiday trifecta (I finally booked a winter break road trip to Sedona in the hopes of bypassing any possible snow anywhere north), the mid terms, all sorts of relief-providing things. I love fall.