What, We Worry?
August 29, 2008
I’ve always been a worrier, so I find it interesting that I am no longer worrying. I have tried to stop worrying for many years and failed, so now that I have stopped worrying, I wonder why?
We’ve heard the phrase, From the Ridiculous to the Sublime, and that may have something to do with my newfound freedom from worry. First, lets look at my previous top 7 worries
- I don’t have enough money
- I am losing my looks and gaining weight
- I have not reached my potential.
- I have not found Mr. Right.
- Cancer is rampant.
- I drink too much wine.
- My only child, a daughter, has the same worries.
These worries should be worrying me today, but they aren’t. I am not worried about why I am no longer worrying, just curious. Let’s list the top six reasons that people worry.
1. They don’t have enough money
2. They are losing their looks and gaining weight
3. They have not reached their potential
4. They are miserable in a relationship
5. They drink too much or not enough
6. They lied about getting cancer to evoke sympathy
7. Their child married a punk head
1/3rd of American’s worry about being homeless
32 % of American’s worry every day
2/3rd of Americans worry about fat consumption
9 out of 10 Chinese worry about finances after retirement
Psychologists at the University of Penn. Call worry “The What If Disease”
Mark Twain “Worry is paying interest on a debt you may never owe”
Alfred E. Newman “What, me worry?”
Let’s list the top six things people never worry about
1. having too much sex
2. checking out a damaged DVD from the library
3. Winning the lottery
4. being struck by lightening
5. being massaged with sacred oils
6. threading a needle
Unfortunately, there are few things a person can do to prevent worrying themselves to death. After researching possible cures on the web, Guatemalan Worry Dolls appeared to be the best bet. You can order them at delaselva.com. I wish you would order me a few and send them to 91 Stone Lane, Bridport, Vermont 05734.
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There is somebody in my house in Vermont. A nice man is renting my house and I am thrilled because that man is renting my house and sending me money so that I can rent an apartment in Providence. Now, wait a minute. Does this make sense? I thought so, a few weeks ago, when I was working here, singing, planning, organizing, hob-knobbing, but as of today, as I lugged a bunch of my crap up two flights of stairs on the East Side, all the while knowing I would have to lug the crap back down the two flights of stairs a few months from now— as of today, I thought to myself, “Gee, I don’t feel very good in my head” I sat on the stairs, dirty stairs, very dirty, and considered my situation. I blamed the town of Bridport , Vermont, for not having a Dunkin Donut’s or a Cafe, a bar or a nightclub, a college, tennis courts, health club, movie theater. Then I blamed myself for wanting those things. Then I blamed myself for having those things here in Providence and not taking advantage of them because I like staying home and reading in bed. Now, if I like staying home and reading in bed, why don’t I just move back to my own home, in Bridport, and wait out the winter with Charles Dickens and Mark Twain? Now that I have rented my house, I miss it. It is not available. That is why I was so sad today, moving into what I thought was a nice apartment on the East Side. It is somebody elses house and always will be, no matter how many knick knacks, rugs, paintings, books, personal items I stuff into it. Renting makes me feel insecure, more insecure than worrying about how to pay my property tax. It’s silly, because none of us own anything fully. Still, sombody is in MY house and i am in somebody else’s house, and it’s ridiculous in a way that I can’t quite comprehend and it is making me very very sad.