Potential passed
November 3rd, 2005 by rsm
Time is a bitch. Nay, a bastard. At least a bitch can be a comfort once in a while.
Years ago during those sophomoric days, I knew all the realizations I was coming to were felt by millions of others in their lives, but, hey, it was happening to me that time. That made it special.
Now I am looking at those times with a fondness and anxiety. There was a great energy to the friendships of youth when family responsibilities did not keep us from each other. Recently I met a great group of people that gave me the hope those types of spontaneous, fun friendships could happen again. It was a recharge, but not enough of one and now I am apparently suffering from Post-Blogmeet Depression. They give me hope that the fun laughter of youth could combine the intense deepening of flavors that comes with age. I pray for it.
Instead I look at all the things I could have done; things that now, in my life, I would find as a more perfect fit. But I am too old. I don’t feel it, but that is what I am told. It is an arbitrary ruling, and probably a wise one too for the most part. I’m at that same realization millions before me have already felt: I don’t get to do it over. This is my shot, make the best of it. Keep moving. It could end at any moment.
Doesn’t make the feelings any better, just let’s me know I have a little while longer to wallow in self-pity. But I joke about it with my friends. Many of my friends, some of my closest ones, the ones that still surprise me to this day, are 10, even 15 years younger than me. They like to point out how the years are slipping away and I laugh along with them. Truth be told, the laughs are hiding some pain. I also know I am not of their cohort as much as I would like to be.
I used to proffer that my motto was: Never live your life with regrets, but if you must have them, make sure you cannot say you regret never having done something.
Unfortunately I didn’t manage to stick by it. I found excuses and responsibilities to throw in the way of doing those things I know I wanted. It’s been a great life so far, lots of gravy. I hope my younger friends can learn from some of the mistakes I made in this sense. I hope my new friends will help me capture that headiness of early adulthood. I hope they all… old, young and new… find the lives that make them smile when infirmity sets in and they are left with their memories and the warmth of their loved ones. I still have hope.
Time is a bitch. Nay, a bastard. At least a bitch can be a comfort once in a while.
Years ago during those sophomoric days, I knew all the realizations I was coming to were felt by millions of others in their lives, but, hey, it was happening to me that time. That made it special.
Now I am looking at those times with a fondness and anxiety. There was a great energy to the friendships of youth when family responsibilities did not keep us from each other. Recently I met a great group of people that gave me the hope those types of spontaneous, fun friendships could happen again. It was a recharge, but not enough of one and now I am apparently suffering from Post-Blogmeet Depression. They give me hope that the fun laughter of youth could combine the intense deepening of flavors that comes with age. I pray for it.
Instead I look at all the things I could have done; things that now, in my life, I would find as a more perfect fit. But I am too old. I don’t feel it, but that is what I am told. It is an arbitrary ruling, and probably a wise one too for the most part. I’m at that same realization millions before me have already felt: I don’t get to do it over. This is my shot, make the best of it. Keep moving. It could end at any moment.
Doesn’t make the feelings any better, just let’s me know I have a little while longer to wallow in self-pity. But I joke about it with my friends. Many of my friends, some of my closest ones, the ones that still surprise me to this day, are 10, even 15 years younger than me. They like to point out how the years are slipping away and I laugh along with them. Truth be told, the laughs are hiding some pain. I also know I am not of their cohort as much as I would like to be.
I used to proffer that my motto was: Never live your life with regrets, but if you must have them, make sure you cannot say you regret never having done something.
Unfortunately I didn’t manage to stick by it. I found excuses and responsibilities to throw in the way of doing those things I know I wanted. It’s been a great life so far, lots of gravy. I hope my younger friends can learn from some of the mistakes I made in this sense. I hope my new friends will help me capture that headiness of early adulthood. I hope they all… old, young and new… find the lives that make them smile when infirmity sets in and they are left with their memories and the warmth of their loved ones. I still have hope.