Oh boy.

New year, lots of wishes for the coming months, but it sure is hard to believe that anything good (on a planetary scale, at least) is actually possible. I have lived for six decades, and I’m a bit disappointed, I have to say. Why? Well, since you asked…

First, I’m bummed out by the absolute lack of sage-ness in my personal process of aging. I used to believe (please don’t laugh at me) that I would become wiser, calmer, and more positive as I got older. All the studies about peaceful, happy old folks (and smug magazine articles about female movie stars revelling in their post-menopausal years) really didn’t help. Now, here I am, sixty, and I have no solutions for the world. Well, I have one: it involves me essentially being Professor X, plugged into Cerebro, and instantaneously felling every evil-intentioned person on the planet. In this fantasy, I also melt down every gun, shell, and bomb. Bullets to plough-shares, anyone? Yes, it’s a ridiculous little dream, but it’s all I got, Bud! I don’t even have any answers for myself. Do I have a healthier body image? Meh. Am I in my sexual prime? I suppose quality trumping quantity makes that a yes, but this is accomplished only with the help of creams and pills that go in my nether regions. TMI? Sorry. Also, I have the luxury of retirement from a day-job and enough money to keep me clothed, sheltered and (over-)fed, but summoning the proper degree of gratitude still doesn’t generate the serenity I thought I’d have by now. I thought I’d be Yoda. Instead, I’m shaping up to be Stanley Hudson from “The Office”. Sigh.

My maternal grandmother was the calmest, most even-keeled lady. I suppose it’s possible that she had moments when she ranted and raved and complained about her lot in life, but I never witnessed it. She always seemed to ignore her age and just get on with living. She lived to ninety-eight, and I always aspired to be the kind of old lady she was. Ha! Nice try. I think I may just be on the way to becoming sour-ish, instead. Sour-ish and bleak-minded.

The second thing I’m bummed out about, being sixty and all, is that I have not effected a change on the world. It just keeps spinning around, full of people who are doing things — good, bad, or indifferent things — and it doesn’t matter a hill of beans that I’ve been one of those people. I will blame the human imagination for this tendency to aspire to making a big difference. Every book, film, poem, painting, song, dance, or even grafitti tag is really about saying “I’m here! I am not just a speck in a cold, vast Universe! Witness my spirit!” . And there are people out there who do make a big difference. Just not me, and maybe not you. Guess I was hoping to be wonderful, in some way. Some folks are born for greatness — I honestly don’t know just what the magical ingredients of their characters are, but you know it when you see it, don’t you? So, I really need to get this mindset of mine straightened out, because nobody likes a pity party, except for the person who’s throwing it, of course!

Finally, I’m fed up with humanity. Are you, too? I mean, after these eons, with all of the tools at our disposal, you’d think our species would be more enlightened, that we’d have gotten our act together. I just want to smack Humanity upside the head, knock some sense into us. We have a friend who says “Bring on the asteroid now”. Some days, I think the same thing. When the film “Deep Impact” starts to look like a potential answer to humanity’s mess, you know you’re getting cynical. However, I suspect that you’ve had a few of these moments, too. I wish that Captain Kirk was helming the U.S.S. Earth. On Star Trek, you always knew that humanity’s best traits would ultimately come to the fore, and that we would all build a nobler future together. Captains Trump, Putin, Jong-un, et al, are Romulans. But really stupid Romulans, which is an oxymoron, I suppose. I’d like to beam them into the vacuum of space.

So, what’s a poor old girl to hope for, when the New Year looks so bleak to her?

Well, a better attitude, for one.

And a solid faith that most people are good, especially when it really matters.

And a hope that, for whatever reason we’re all here, on this pretty little planet, in this massive, mysterious Universe, the ultimate force in power is one of creation and beauty and profound meaning, even if I’m having trouble sensing it.

So, Happy 2023, fellow doubters. May we all rediscover our hope this year.

And maybe our psychokinetic powers.