Insufficient Funds

It’s kinda weird the way people tell you not to panic. I can say that, because I do it myself. Sure, I get told it a lot, so maybe I’m more prone to it than others, but I think that panic is under-rated. If you’re doing a balancing act: sitting on a dodgy bicycle on top of a razor blade wired to explosives, it’s time to panic.

If you’re watching the shower scene from Hitchcock’s Psycho, then you don’t want to calmly encourage the woman to relax and meditate on her blessings, you want to scream at her. GET OUT! PANIC AND RUN!

If you happen, unluckily, to be tied down to a railroad sleeper with a runaway train heading for you, then it’s ok to feel more than slightly anxious.

I’m no stranger to the paralyzing effects of panic and anxiety, and of course you want your friends to keep dodging the bullets, but sometimes there just aren’t immediate options. You know you’re panicking when you are so muddled you can’t remember the words to the Serenity Prayer. Hmm. Serenity. I’m not sure I know what that is.

So today for me is a day to panic, a little like a startled furry creature in the headlights of an oncoming car. I’m hoping that some sensibility kicks in, and I dash to the freedom of the hedgerows lining the road, instead of running into the opposite.

I hear screaming can be therapeutic. Right?