It is safe and accurate to say that I am a “worst case scenario” kind of person.
My brain is a dick. It can take any situation and make it cosmically horrible.
I don’t really have much defense against the situation, it’s easier to just roll with it.
Mostly, this happens when I’m sitting alone on my front porch or in the shower.
As soon as I get some peace and quiet and serenity is just within my reach, my brain goes “Oh, yeah. It’s time. You know what could happen, right?”
And then the elaborate and horrifying fantasies are woven.
Last week was difficult. I mean, not just because it’s 2020.
2020, right? What a weird, fucked up year this has been. In 50 years, any school American History text books should be titled “What the Shuddering Fuck Happened in 2020?”
It was a gut wrenching week at work. We upgraded our main server and failure was not an option. This project has been looming over my head nearly since I started this job 6 years ago.
My boss and I were talking the morning we switched over. He knows me well and asked how I was holding up.
Me: Well, I had to consider all the bad things that could happen.
Boss: Yeah, if it all fails that would be bad.
Me: HAHAHAHAHA, Amateur. That scenario is actually on the plus side.
Me: Worst case scenario is the upgrade somehow triggers an event that makes the planet crack down the middle like a nut. The two halves hurtle into nothingness and all of creation is gone.
Me: Next is the upgrade somehow creates a new version of COVID. COVID 20. And it kills 99.5 percent of all humans and the only ones who survive are racist fucks and then they self destruct in 5 years. But at least the animals will thrive then. Which is fair.
Boss: How many of these are there?
Me: I have a list.
Boss: Maybe skip ahead a little.
Me: Okay, so the upgrade fails, it is entirely my fault. I lose my job. Randy and I lose everything and we end up living in a studio apartment above a liquor store. And we don’t have health insurance.
Boss: You know that isn’t going to happen.
Me: Really? How would I know? Am I psychic? Do you think I’m psychic?
Boss: How is that scenario in the plus column?
Me: Well, at least there is a possibility to move forward from there. I mean, if we could survived living on Ramen noodles and drinking cheap beer. You know. From the liquor store. The owner gives us a discount because he feels sorry for us.
Boss: It’s going to be fine.
And it was.
I mean, we didn’t get to have no hiccups or anything.
I’ve never been involved in a project of this kind where shit didn’t shake out.
It’s stressful and not fun, but it always works out.
So, I got that over with. Kind of. The next few weeks will probably involve some more shit shaking out, but so far, it’s not horrible. I don’t think the earth will crack in two.
I decided that if my brain was going to continue to be a dick and torture me with ridiculous, dystopian fantasies, that I would counter with something for which I am grateful.
I am infinitely grateful that I got to hear KD Lang cover Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.
Her voice is perfect. The song is sad, but still makes me feel comforted.
I’m sorry for all the humans who lived and died before they got to hear KD Lang sing this song.
I am grateful for this. Even my asshole brain agrees.
Image courtesy of DarkmoonArt_de.