Skip to content

Posts tagged ‘journal’

Jun 17

4 Comments

i’m getting older and still no plan

No longer child’s play: I still don’t know where I’m heading.

9/18/06

I just turned 37, which is way closer to 40 than I ever imagined myself getting.  That’s not to say that I didn’t think I’d make it to 40, it’s just to say that I’ve never imagined myself getting this old.

In reality, 37 feels about the same as 27 did.  Only older.

It’s one more example for me that life is somehow a circular thing.  No matter how far I go, how much I change or stay the same, how different my life circumstances turn out to be, I always somehow end up in the exact same place.  It’s like the Mayan theory of time passage.  So what’s the point of moving ahead, other than sheer boredom?

What I feel differently now amounts close to panic.  That is the difference between 27 and 37.  In both cases, I definitely felt the pressure of time running out.  Only now I have ten years added to that – with all the same have-nots in my life, and I still have no plan.  And it’s no one’s fault but my own.

11/2/02

Why do I feel like so much time is passing me by?  It slips like water through my fingers – cold and invisible, it drips away until there is nothing left but the memory of it.

.

Related articles

Jun 15

Reflections on The Wall

.

.

.

.

.
7/28/91

.

It was my fourth visit, and I was surprised by the number of people there.  Dismayed, even.  But what did I expect, coming on a spring Saturday?  Twice I had gone by night, quiet, Lincoln’s stern reflection glowing off black granite.

My mother came this time and she cried.  “He used to be so funny.”  I never imagined she’d find a memory here, like so many others.  Why did it shock me so?

I found my way to the name I met my first time.  12 West, line 52.  “Hi Donald.”

There’s a man making rubbings and I follow him.  He’s so busy.  I keep following and now I steal my chance.  “Will you do one for me?”  I take pictures of the old man’s hands, rubbing pencil over paper, and in my mind, I make up a life to go with the name.

A young boy walks by with his father, and I hear him ask the question.  The father says, “Ah…jeez, well it all started…”

I turn away, with Donald’s name, climb out of the crevice, and step back into the world.

.

Newer Entries »