Linnetontheleaf

So the last time I wrote, I more or less pooh-poohed the recent calamitous conditions, but maybe after two more such weeks, perhaps I should now retract that and run screaming for the exits.  We’re in uncharted waters here, and should –they tell us– be very afraid.   But this crowd (Bush et al.) has said that before, and it’s hard to keep working up the requisite level of fear to respond.

So maybe I AM becoming pretty Zen!  Or, it could just be emotional fatigue.  Or the faith that I claim I don’t actually possess?  Or maybe just a due sense of my real priorities.  After all, as long as I don’t open my 401(k) statements or try to borrow money, this is not yet affecting me much.  I expect many of us feel the same, until we turn on the TV and start listening to the talking heads trying to whip us into a panic.

So there’s my latest sanity-preserving strategy — no television.  This is sure to make me the best-informed blogger on the block.

I work in New York in the financial services industry, which has been all too exciting the past several days.  But that isn’t really the right word — I glance at the plummeting Dow chart and cringe, but it’s not exciting in the sense of a roller coaster or a horror movie.  It’s really more like having a long, dreadful dental procedure where you’re simultaneously bored and terrified.

But I’ve lived through a number of these implosions, and miraculously have never really suffered very badly.  My company survives, I remain employed — with frayed nerves and mistrust of authority figures, but no critical damage.

So I’m not as spooked as I used to be.  I cling to an atavistic faith that I am innocent, and will therefore will escape unscathed.  I’ve lived within my means, saved my money, managed my career — thus, no bolt shall fall upon me.  Every day presents me with more and more evidence that this naive belief is cruelly untrue, yet I still hold fast, I suppose because I cannot go on otherwise.

Years ago I had bad scare about my future and ‘coped’ by not getting out of bed for several days.  Now, armed with my pathetic little armor of faith, I arise each morning and slog through my day like the obedient worker bee that I am. 

The voice of experience, or willful gullibility?  Denial or resilience?  Block-headed, or admirable?  I don’t know, but I’m grateful for the crutch.