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It's been a good weekend. And it's been a bad weekend. So much going on, mainly in my head, and I can't get it out fast enough, or accurately enough.
So, instead, here's a moment.
37 years ago today (father's day) my grandmother met her best friend Chas (rhymes with "jaws"). I would weep for him while walking around Old Campus in October of my Freshman year, my freshman counselor, Sontine's arm around me. That was 12 years ago.
50 years ago, this month, my grandmother met John Anthony Glover, who I would later come to call "grandpa" and would be named after. She married him 5 months after meeting him.
5 years ago, this week, I was searching for a job, making a slew of long distance calls to a certain Aussie girl, and preparing for a trip to Canada.
9 years ago, this week, I turned 21, lost my virginity, discovered that I and Tequila don't get along well, had my first drink in front of my mother, and learned that I really enjoyed working at Disneyland.
16 years ago this month, I met my Father (he's never been a "dad") for the first time. I also learned that I have a little sister, too. Their current whereabouts, are unknown.
30 years ago, this coming Friday, I was born.
I'm having the most issues dealing with the last one.
Mainly it's the same thing that I go through every year--another year. I reflect far too often on measuring my life through accomplishment, or rather, the lack ofaccomplishment. Some years it is worse than others. It fades, but it's tangible.
Like many others, I measure my success in life against that of my peers and contemporaries. There are things that *I* consider to be of import, and though not a race, I look at what my friends are doing, where they are going. And I measure with a pretty strict ruler. And a strict time base.
And often, I look around and realize that I'm no where near where I really *want* to be. But the question becomes where *should* I be. And the discourse within my noggin weighs heavilly, and has problems being sated.
I have ideas, and they are mine, but not mine alone of who I should be, where I should be, and what I should have accomplished by now. I'm en route. Not fully, but not far, by any means.
But this is just the moment that I'm in, and like they say, "this too shall pass."
So, instead, here's a moment.
37 years ago today (father's day) my grandmother met her best friend Chas (rhymes with "jaws"). I would weep for him while walking around Old Campus in October of my Freshman year, my freshman counselor, Sontine's arm around me. That was 12 years ago.
50 years ago, this month, my grandmother met John Anthony Glover, who I would later come to call "grandpa" and would be named after. She married him 5 months after meeting him.
5 years ago, this week, I was searching for a job, making a slew of long distance calls to a certain Aussie girl, and preparing for a trip to Canada.
9 years ago, this week, I turned 21, lost my virginity, discovered that I and Tequila don't get along well, had my first drink in front of my mother, and learned that I really enjoyed working at Disneyland.
16 years ago this month, I met my Father (he's never been a "dad") for the first time. I also learned that I have a little sister, too. Their current whereabouts, are unknown.
30 years ago, this coming Friday, I was born.
I'm having the most issues dealing with the last one.
Mainly it's the same thing that I go through every year--another year. I reflect far too often on measuring my life through accomplishment, or rather, the lack ofaccomplishment. Some years it is worse than others. It fades, but it's tangible.
Like many others, I measure my success in life against that of my peers and contemporaries. There are things that *I* consider to be of import, and though not a race, I look at what my friends are doing, where they are going. And I measure with a pretty strict ruler. And a strict time base.
And often, I look around and realize that I'm no where near where I really *want* to be. But the question becomes where *should* I be. And the discourse within my noggin weighs heavilly, and has problems being sated.
I have ideas, and they are mine, but not mine alone of who I should be, where I should be, and what I should have accomplished by now. I'm en route. Not fully, but not far, by any means.
But this is just the moment that I'm in, and like they say, "this too shall pass."
