2006-12-10
my verve
Time can go by sooo slooooowly.
People nag about how much kids have grown since the last visit, and how everything goes by in a flash. Time has unfortunately been branded as swift for the sake of numerous carpe-diem-esque clich�s- that it goes by so fast that you better go for it while you still can. Actually, the average life span is like sixty-seven years. It�s the recalling it that goes by in �the blink of an eye� because when you reminisce, you forget all the stupid boring shit like you reading this right now. Instead you flip through all the events life that society has told us are memorable, like a few peppered holidays, marriages, babies, divorces, funerals. Screw that time you had to wait in line for what seemed like forever- you�ve forgotten. But things can really last.
I know I�m neglecting the unexpected and accidents and surprising tragedies, but those have to be swept over for now lest we get caught up in the things we may not control.
So the near seven decades, that�s plenty of time to screw things up, but it leaves an ample duration for remedies as well. There is no need to make haste, and it�s pointless to fret upon the waste.
When you can release that feeling that you�re missing out on something, that�s when you�re really free.
Having said that, even if it means entirely contradicting myself, I do have to give substantial credit to the contrary.
One of my favorite things to do in college is sing with David and James as they both strum their guitars. We sing a really good song that is familiar to me. It�s �The General� by Dispatch.
�Take a shower, shine your shoes,
you got no time to lose, you are young men
you must be living�
Megan has the words taped on the wall next to her desk. The lines are infusing. There�s no time to lose, you�re young, you must be living.
Some mornings, I lean over the sink and study my face just centimeters from the mirror. The skin is smooth and firm. I thought about its feel the other night as I laid next to my mom and looked at her. I traced the creases that line her eyes, wrinkles accumulated from thousands of facial expressions over the decades. I touched it and it was soft, but in a different way than my face is, not as fresh. I said the lines to the song in my head and thought about it. I�m nearly twenty. These are the most ripe times of a person�s life, an apex of charisma, vigor, and deep-founded curiosity about the world. It�s very empowering.
As much as we can bask in the fact that we have a while here on earth (oh dog, I sure hope so), something greatly compels me to get going now. I want to heed the words of the song, singing it with great conviction. I don�t want to think about life expectancies and forgotten line-waits and sitting back in assured relaxation. I want to LIVE and embrace this awesomely cool youth before it fades and everything (literally) starts sagging� and even after all that happens, too.
The past few days, I've been having this terrific sense of d�j� vu. I've always loved the sense of it; it makes me feel like I just sipped some warm milk and then it cozily spreads through my chest. It's an elusive fringe of familiarity.
Petie is now home. Do you know what that means? Petie is home. It means that home is home. And that's a very, very good feeling. It lifts that veil of d�j� vu and transforms the vague and mysterious feeling into something so real and meaningful. Welcome home.
Her return reminds me that there are so many adventures to be had. Each new day is exuberant with vibrancy and potential. It's like each rising sun at every new dawn is so huge and fiery with possibility that it bursts the seams of the oncoming day. That's pretty tremendous, if I may say so myself. I think I'm ready to take all eighteen years I've collected thus far and salute my nineteenth year (come this Friday) with some salient verve.
If everything is under control, then you are going too slow.
-Mario Andretti
leesah-likes at 7:20 p.m.