The WordPress Daily Prompt for July 30 asks, “Is this year turning out to be as you’d expected?”
Predictioning is not among my core competencies. I’ll emend that: I have many apprehensions, so I make a lot of predictions, but few prove correct. It’s a numbers game. I’ll probably do it again. That’s a prediction.
The full Daily Prompt informs me (reminds those who have been participating/using the Daily Prompt since earlier this year—and bless those of you who have been doing so; I have been doing this for less than a week, and it is exhausting) that on January 21, 190 days ago, the Prompt promoters wanted predictions from writers for how day number 211 of the year 2014 would go, and that since today is that day, to let our readers know how those predictions compare to the year we are living. I started publishing The Gad About Town last fall and even, as it turns out, published something that very day, but I was not yet replying to the Daily Post.
Neither January 21 nor today are (so far) days of much note; they are as average and non-noteworthy as the Daily Prompters might have desired. (If everyone was having huge, event-filled days on both dates, that would be spooky. Tomorrow’s Daily Prompt would be: “How did the DP see that coming?”) But if I had sat myself down in January and listed my plans, hopes, schemes, and dreams for the next several months, well, as I wrote a couple days ago:
“… every time I have written out a five-year plan, I have veered completely off from it within six months. The one time I started a 401(k), I lost that job within a month. Three months ago, my housemate and I were supposed to move to a new apartment and the very day that I officially changed my address with the post office, a task that nowadays is more of an official-sounding representation that one is moving than it is something totally necessary, that very day, thirty minutes after filling out the post office’s online form, I was told by my housemate’s mom (of all things) that I was not a part of the move and that my housemate had been lying to me about the move for six months. Two very positive things resulted: I moved in with a part of my girlfriend’s family and my girlfriend and I are closer together, and I no longer live with a sociopathic housemate or the mother. Life has taught me to retain my lack of a detailed and creative imagination and yet be open to possibilities.”
Might I have seen that this fiasco was a possibility as it unfolded? I did not. But fool’s gold rusts, doesn’t it? July 21 was going to be a day spent in one upstate New York town, spent waiting for the (oh, so still distant) day when my girlfriend and I could and would move in together or I could move to a town closer to her. Instead, it is spent in another upstate New York town, but I got what I wanted, sooner rather than predicted, through an infuriating lie that led to the happy anecdote entitled, “How My Girlfriend and I Got Closer.”
According to my journal from the day, January 21 was a day spent shivering in an apartment with heat that only paid an occasional appearance during this past Polar Vortex-cursed winter (consider this the opposite of an ad for Colonial Gardens Apartments), which was the major complaint of my entry.
I did not yet have health insurance, so I did not know if or when I would see an eye surgeon to address issues with my right eye (my left eye had been operated on a year earlier and then my health insurance was cut; these are stories for another post), or when I would see a neurologist again. Health insurance was indeed restored, my right eye now has 20/25 vision, and my new neurologist has updated the official theory as to what is affecting my balance and control of my leg muscles.
In these six-plus months since January, two friends died. If I saw that coming, I would have stayed in bed under the covers, Polar Vortex-winter or not.
And this is merely my personal life. Very little in the news makes much sense, and I used to like that fact. Based on the unfolding of these last six months, I hesitate to even attempt to predict my life in the next 190 days. That is the point to paying attention while living it, though.