Actually, the full line (which is a tad long for a blog title) is:
Don't Know Where I'm Goin'
I Don't Like Where I've Been
There May Be No Exit
But Hell I'm Going In
And I think the full stanza is what makes the most sense.
Anyway, it was just Halloween, and if any holiday is the weight losers' holiday, I think it's gotta be Halloween.
Because of the candy and its inherent temptations? Sure. Because of the idea of mask wearing, and letting masks fall? Absolutely. Because of the harvest? The change in seasonal look, from warmer, colorful early autumn to late, brown-leaved, bare-treed, cold-winded fall? Because of the time change? Yes, yes and yes.
It is a time of wrenching changes, even though we are prepared for them -- or at least we think we are. It is a time of putting aside shorts and tee shirts and grabbing jackets and sweaters. Extra blankets. Storm windows. My husband put plastic on the stained glass windows in the back -- now they almost look 3-D, spooky and ghostlike, wrapped up tight like a mummy.
It is a time when you get serious, when frivolity seems to exit and the grind truly begins. It separates the women from the girls.
It is, yes, the beginning of Seasonal Affective Disorder, although I have been feeling the onset early this year, earlier than ever, as the weather has shown more clouds than sun and more rain than warmth, all year long and on and on and on into a future of darkness and howling winds and long underwear and icy roads.
It is coming, I know. We all know, it is obvious, it is the mob of squirrels I see on neighbors' lawns, bold and arguing with each other, grappling over whatever nutrition they can grasp and store for the months ahead. It is in the decapitated sunflowers, brown and limp. It is in the skies, as the paintbox mixes steel grey and a wash of rose madder in the mornings but not this morning because it is still pitch, and the streetlights are still on and the black cloak wraps around and threatens to tighten and bind and hold.
But there are good things, there, too. There is joy to be found, even among the dark places. Joys of holidays, of years renewing, of calendar pages flipping, of personal renewals and reversals as timeless as the air. And mysteries, for there is nothing so obvious as a Summer, or as mysterious as a Winter, its veil of black and snow and cold hiding away its treasures.
Do I know where I'm going?
Well, sort of. I have plans, sure I have plans. But things have a way of happening regardless of your own personal planning so while I have my ideas and my hopes I am not kidding myself. There will be a monkey wrench. There always is.
Do I like where I've been?
I do in many ways, but I also don't, and I shouldn't, for living in the past is not where I should want to reside. There is better up ahead, and resting on my laurels is not going to get me anywhere. Like a shark, I must move forward, even if it's into the abyss.
Is there an exit?
Sure. The exit is long, though, and it leads through the rest of my life, and there is nothing on the other side because this is how life is going to be and continue. It is up to me to assure that the exit I choose is the right one, the one that will sustain me, and make it worthwhile to go on this journey, on all journeys.
But Hell I'm Going In.
Just you try and stop me.