I've often thought that 2013 was one of the longest years of
my life. I did a lot, but all I did was
work. My 20s went like that too, and
sometimes I regret spending those late hours when I had all that youth and
energy.
Time is relative, no matter how much some scientists want to
tell us that falling out of an airplane takes the same amount of time on a
clock as sharpening a pencil. One of
the things that I've known acutely through my life is that my life is
finite. There's only so much time to do
the things I'm here to do. Of course it
would help a lot if I actually knew what I'm here to do, but I have an internal
fury when someone wastes my time because none of us have a lot of it.
I knew all this when I was a kid, but 50 was a really long
ways away, and catching crayfish seemed pretty important right then. It looks different this side of 50. I see old people hobbling into the Shrine
where I work and think old age doesn't seem that far away any more. How much longer can I run up steps? Or eat stuff old people can't digest? Or write the world's greatest novel or paint
my greatest masterpiece? Or maybe have
that love affair that lasts forever?
Some of the things I wanted in my life didn't happen. I wanted the white picket fence and children
and the happy husband. Somewhere along
the line I noticed that white picket fences need painted, and I sure don't feel
like doing that. Kids make unnecessary
noise and don't always turn out well.
Or the happy husband is sleeping around. What do I really want, what can I achieve, and what is my real
life purpose? Somehow, spending the day
catching crayfish seems like a most excellent use of my time.
I had a coworker who used to tell me that I was difficult,
oh okay, she'd call me a pain in the ass.
I'd smile at her and say "and yet, there are people who love
me!" She'd sputter and I'd laugh,
but sometimes I think being loved is the only thing that matters. Sometimes I think hippies and the Beatles
were idiots and I'd better get around to painting that masterpiece because
that's the only thing that's going to be here after I'm gone. It's a new year and I have a blank
canvas. I'm not much for New Year's
resolutions, but maybe this is the year I'll start exercising, eat right, and
paint for real?
Looking over my posts for 2013, I do feel a certain sense of
accomplishment. I'm amazed with myself
that I've been able to keep posting even with all the current job demands. I hung up thumbnails of all my posts since I
started blogging, and sometimes I stop and study them. It makes me feel like I have done something,
with plenty of room to do more somethings before I go.
