Weekend Rant

Conversation between two friends.

MY: It's the year of the dog. That means it's "our year". We are old farts.

BT: But we have been old farts longtime ago, buddy.

MY: True, but I sure didn't feel like one till... ok, till I had that darned carpal tunnel flipping syndrome, ok? At least I thought I was still immortal...

BT: ...till the delusions dissipated. Wake up, woman! We are old, old! In medieval times we would have had grandkids at our age.

MY: In medieval times we would have died from childbirth, too. Or worse, from some bubonic plague and childbirth. I dunno which is worse - dying young, bloodstained and naked with bad skin, or dying old with botox and bad skin.

BT: Either way you still die.

MY: Yeah, but I sure want to make my life count! I mean, I am an old fart and still haven't done all I am supposed to do!

BT: Aren't you supposeda wait for God's timing?

MY: Easy for you to say! You're not the one in stucksville (or should it be "sucksville") wondering if you'll ever go out to frontline missions again!

BT: As far as I know, Abraham waited plenty years before heading out to the unknown yonder.

MY: Excuse me, Abraham also had plenty of property, not to mention camels and whatever animal-stock while on his wandering circuit.

BT: So now you want some camels?

MY: Very funny... but come to think of it, a new set of wheels wouldn't hurt...

BT: But would it help?

MY: I guess not. (Beat.) No amount of material possession would, not when it is merely used as a substitute for a deeper hunger. Thing is, I have been out of action for 5 years. And that's a mighty long time! I've been waiting for open doors all these while and... I am tired! I will get old and frail and unable to be of any use anymore!

BT: Hmmm...for that, I think God will imprison you a while longer.

MY: I really hate talking to you...

Dear God, when I get impatient, help me to understand that ultimately, it's not my will nor desires that matter.