For
me, the week that was supposed to conclude with the end of the world began with
The Next Big Thing. I'm featured on Tracie McBride's blog, which she calls
Exquisite Corpse. Fitting in a cosmic sort of way. I'm a fantasy writer so them ghosts, zombies and vamps don't scare
me none.
If it really does occur, nothing will matter anyway. Nothing. Not how many stories you've written or if you are traditionally or self-published. Or if the novel is done or it isn't. But my belief is you have to keep moving forward because, as the tragic events of last week point out, you never know when your number is going to come up and some lunatic is going to turn your workplace into just another live violent video game. For the families and friends of the victims of all of this year's senseless tragedies, the world came to an end a long before today.
I
live on the edge, always too busy, too stressed, and too close to neighborhoods
where gun and gang violence is so routine the shooting at one NYC Public High
School last week didn't even make the news because no one died. Even though none of those I know and love in Newtown were hurt, my Christmas spirit is near death.
Last Wednesday, a rare sunny day, the fact I got to go to the bathroom and eat
lunch at work, and that I avoided all measure of parking and traffic gridlock nightmares
lulled me into a sense of hope. I began this post in Starbucks on East 9th Street in Greenwich Village, sipping a tall skinny
vanilla latte, nibbling a tomato and mozzarella panini, before heading to
Fantastic Fiction at the KGB Bar.
I
should have gone home to do homework, and paid for it with two almost all-nighters
to hand in my assignments due before the world ended. There is a lot
of holiday work still to be done but it seems a waste of energy to bake cookies
and wrap all those gifts (bought online and still in the boxes) if no one will be in any condition to eat them or open them
The
future seems grim, well with massacres every couple of months, catastrophic
flooding on a regular basis, blizzarding in October and pouring rain in
December, and people still arguing that violent images and games have nothing
to do with this and climate change is a myth. So why should I not enjoy Mary
Robinette Kowal reading and puppeteering?
I
don't scare easy. So, if the end does come it will have to be absent my older
son since I don't want to die in traffic going to pick him up from school in
the middle of yet another flooding rain and windstorm. Getting the Noah's Arc
analogy yet? My middle son got home early, not wanting to met the end of the
world on a Megabus speeding along the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
Like
in Pompeii, if it happens in NYC today, those Amazon boxes piled in a corner will be mini time
capsules of a civilization who ignored the warnings and blissfully bought new
iPads and iPods, and paper books, and pretty clothes for their little daughters
instead of repenting or running for their lives..
Depending on the time of day disaster strikes, I might die doing my life's work-- taking care of
kids in a New York City public high school with scanners and metal detectors
and an average of three ambulance calls a day. Because most of the kids are
great and appreciate the care and service and maybe I've left my imprint in
time by helping a few out along the way. Would like to think so. But I'd rather
be with my husband and pretty daughter and son # 2--if he's not out celebrating
the apocalypse with his friends.
If
we're all still here Saturday, we'll go food shopping, get the last few gifts,
bake those cookies, make the gingerbread house, wrap the presents, and put up
the tree.
Apocalypse
or not there isn't anything you can do, nowhere you can run. Just gotta keep
moving forward. In the end, if it comes in one big bang, a shower of bullets, an accident, or simply dying of "natural causes" how much money you
have or how many fancy toys or baubles you possess won't mean a thing. Nothing but what you did with your life, no matter how long or short, will ever matter. Nothing else. Nothing..
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