Get Away From Me!

If there has ever been an award for Best Clever Mockery on an album cover, it must have gone to Nellie McKay's 2004 release, Get Away From Me. I love her triumphant expression, paired with her shocking potty mouth and quirky gangster-rap-musical-theatre inspired songs. I imagine her as a long lost distant musical cousin.

While I appreciate the ribbing of Norah Jones' Come Away With Me (I think we can all agree we were force fed that album), what I appreciate more is the sentiment.

I am a curmudgeon. I often feel like McKay looks - arms outstretched, ready to embrace the world and its wonders, yet simultaneously eager to be left alone. Mostly so I can grumble in the privacy of my own home or blog. While I don't fundamentally dislike humanity, my socializing half-life is short and the fewer people around me, the better. I think that is why I love being married so much. I have my best friend all to myself forever.

It might be considered odd that I love performing as it requires me to sing to crowds of strangers, but I rarely interact with anyone directly, and I'll duck away from the audience at the end of a show like a bootleg DVD seller who spots a police officer heading her way.

This disposition was fine as long as I had enough reasons to leave the house, forcing me to regularly interact with people. However, even though I've only worked from home for about two weeks now, it's been sufficiently long enough to give me a peculiar disposition, and possibly, disadvantage in society.

I am, officially, 85 years old.

I now feel uneasy simply going to the dentist. I get jumpy when approached by someone unexpectedly and drive at least 10 miles per hour under posted speed limits.

When I do find a stranger I'm comfortable talking to, I'll casually mention that I discovered the secret to crisp, yet chewy, cookies. I find Rachel Ray passable and today I lunched when Dr. Phil was on, raising my brow, "Who knew 11 year old girls needed the HPV vaccine...little sluts!"

And while working from home is my greatest dream come true, I'm wondering if it could potentially make me "age" faster, or further perpetuate and amplify my generally sour disposition. Time will tell.

I think there are some good things about being old at heart, and it's not just the delectable cookies. I think that though I've certainly not dealt with the kind of hardships that most of the world's population deals with, it sometimes feels like I've already had enough heartache for one life, last year being the hardest. However, I think with age comes wisdom, and at a certain point, even though life gets you down so much you cry uncle, you learn to simply throw up your hands and laugh.

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