the passing of time has always been elusive to me – I can never remember whether it was spring or fall, whether I was 18 or 23, whether it was last weekend or three months ago. what my life lacks is markers – something to measure not just the passage of small increments of time, but to denote segments of my life. some people use seasons (what’s that? it’s 65 degrees in SF every day), others use sporting events (despite my love of tennis I still can’t tell you when the US Open is versus Wimbledon), and the lucky ones get to measure life in semesters and vacations.
I guess what I use are boys…seasons of love, if you will. but I'm starting to realize that putting so much emphasis on boys has really been detracting from time that should be spent on...me.
here’s the deal. 2011 has been a tumultuous year – I’ve never felt so lost yet had so many options in front of me…my quarter life crisis has been like a choose your own adventure book where every choice is difficult because there is so much on the line. boys have been the distracting options thrown in to delay making any real decision that contributes to progress.
just imagine:
it stormed like crazy last night and a giant tree has fallen over, blocking your passage to the golden city where david beckham lives, unicorns exist, and you love your job. going around the tree is not an option for some reason you will never know, but you can:
- Dig a tunnel under the tree (7 days)
- Chop your way through the freaking tree (4.5 days, but you need to make an axe somehow…)
- Make out with the hot guy traveling with you (as long as you want)
- Have an orgy with some hot body contestants who live in the tree (well, how much stamina do you have??)
obvious choice here - 4. haha just joking. but you get the point. it’s time to stop screwing around and get myself back on track.
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| who knew the real life version would be so much scarier? |
great post!
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