Until the End of the World

Turning on the TV or radio news is like tuning into some Hollywood disaster movie trailer. At a safe distance we glimpse apocalyptic footage of a devastated landscape somewhere on planet Earth, and momentarily wonder if all the prophets of doom have got it right about 2012.

In this strange universe, I find myself yet again pondering the meaning of my life, the escalating coincidences, and weird way everything is connected. I sit in on a hedge fund managers meeting, as the Mayan Long Count Calendar and the end of the world is discussed. Half-heartedly believed by some members in the room, while others sip their espresso, snivelling under their breath, or gulp their Perrier in amazement, and I narrowly avoid choking on the surreal.

Once again, tricked by that old Cosmic Joker – LMAO – he seems to say – as I have to pinch myself into the realisation that God does move in mysterious ways. As it turned out, the RGB wasn’t such a BIG deal after all. Now hired as a general all-in-one Admin, I’m back where I started . This time I get my Herman-Miller chair and underground parking space again, but no corner office or staff to supervise. Sounds good? Well remember, the Cosmic Joker always gets the last laugh.

Someone once said, and I can never remember who, to punish us God gives us what we wish for. Indeed, I am finding this to be close to the truth. Not to bore you with details, each day, each week my progression swings on a pendulum, along with my fears and regrets. Some days I feel good, others not so much. I go from discussing HR issues with the CEO one moment, taking out the office garbage the next. What does ‘dogsbody’ mean? (We use to call idiots that back in the U.K.)

It’s true, I do get depressed quite often now, because I fear that 2012 isn’t going to happen, and I am destined to spend the rest of my life poor, and being someone or other’s general dogsbody/PA/Admin/maid/slave. Where are those cinematic promises of joining a resistance guerrilla army, to fight the New World Order, or Aliens, whichever comes first?

I know it’s up to me to make a decision to change but… just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. No longer struggling with the morals and ethics of the abortion ‘industry’, I’m back to showcasing my talent as the most highly organised Admin. Manager this side of the Med. So, why am I not satisfied?

I’ve been looking for an agent to sell my writing, struggling with self-doubt, self-esteem, and self-pity. Will I ever do anything with my crazed autobiography, book on dreams, or sci-fi screenplay converted into a novel? Up to now I’ve had little time to concentrate, working late most days, the freelancing stalled on the backburner.

“Enough of your procrastination Marie, what about hedge fund managers and the end of the world, what are they saying?”

Sceptics abound, but when you hear a reputable stock market trader talk about how much the US government is spending on underground bunkers in preparation for ‘something big in 2012’, you’ve got to ask yourself, "Should I be doing anything about it?"

Then your M.D. drops a book on your desk called, ‘How to Live in a Dangerous World’, and says “It’s yours, take it home and read it!” Do you start to worry? Should I sell everything and move to Australia?


I don't know if you would call this predictive programming back in the 50s, but the below trailer is a MUST SEE!