Sunday, December 12, 2004

Easter eggs

My original intent was to write every day while I was in TX. But how? And where? I find that I let these technical specifications get in the way. As I approach my pen, I think "I really should type instead". But as I approach my laptop I start wondering, "But what file structure should I use? How will I find this tidbit later when I feel like working on it again?" and "How will I ever think to run across it again once I've forgotten it exists?"

Starting as early as elementary school, I felt compelled to get thoughts and ideas down on paper. To be more accurate, I felt compelled to get the beginnings of thoughts and ideas down on paper. A number of my childhood notebooks contain segments of stories, parts of poems, inklings of ideas. Whenever I felt like reviewing what I'd written, I would grab a stack of notebooks and page through them. But even better than that was accidentally finding something from years before whenever I pulled out a half-empty notebook for some other use. In the middle of taking score for scrabble, for example, a muse would tap on my shoulder reminding me of an idea that was interesting to me and that I wanted to work on.

Friday, December 10, 2004

Home again, but different

In TX again, I'm sitting indian style on my childhood bed. (Where does the term "indian style" come from?)

What's different from when I last lived here, 13 years ago? I'm older, my hair is approaching "salt and pepper", I'm out of shape... That cannot be it, but those are the first things that come to mind.

The first, I can do nothing about. Time marches on, dragging us by the hair behind it. We can resist, straining with all our might to stay put as our hair gets pulled out and the soles of our shoes get worn down. We can let our bodies go limp and feel the torture of the road as we bump and scrape against it. Or we can try to walk along, adapting to changes in pace when necessary.

I am 31, but I still let my parents "parent" me in some ways. When I come home, they still insist on paying for my meals, buying me socks, handing me the gas card if I'm going to fill up their car... I read recently that domestic pets never mature to full adulthood due to the relationship with their owners extending the parent/kitten, parent/puppy dynamic. Is that the same of my generation? At least for those of us who are marrying later, having children later, buying houses later, etc...?

As for my hair, I'm fine with the gray. If I were to dye it, what would that change? Underneath the dye, my hair would still be gray. :)

And physical fitness? This is the one factor I technically have complete control over but that I have done little about. Am I refusing at a subconscious level to be more like my 18 year old self? Perhaps this is the only real way in which I can truly say that I (not time, not genetics) have changed!

This is silly of course. But so again is the fact that I am still out of shape.


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