(no subject)
I just wrote this email to a third party, but it was general enough that no one would know. Casual caveat; most of the anecdotes are reruns
My grandmother, father and I have sat down to dinner together the last three evenings. Tonight, the dining room conversation fell to the selection of brands and flavors of yogurt carried by the local grocery store. My grandmother is older than I know, she's been in and out of the hospital for kidney and heart complications, climbing in and out of a car leaves her short of breath, and she can't raise her left arm above her shoulder. My roommate Sam and I had a conversation relating to all this the night before I left. Very somber atmosphere, we had both been with our mothers from who (whom? I should know by now) we grow more detached every day, and he had been sitting alone playing video games and smoking with classic rock wafting in the air the past two hours reflecting. We collectively realized that we're exceptionally young but already quick approaching our prime, and it follows that the majority of our remaining years will be spent sliding downhill. I fear the day that I'm so preoccupied with yogurt that I forget Matlock will be on in five minutes, even the day that my insecurities force me into a car dealership, but I am none-the-less quick approaching my prime. These are the best years of my life, and clearly not because ramen, rice, and condensed family sized soup are the staples of my diet. With little exception, I can live however I choose without ever choosing. No committment and no disappointment. When I wake up at two o'clock, there are no plans for ten o'clock or the tenth of next month, and life has gotten so much easier since the calendars disappeared. The important things take care of themselves, and if they don't they're important enough that I they will be remembered or not so important that tragedy will follow their being forgotten. Let the world take care of itself while you tend to your needs. Of course this only works in small doses, tread wisely.
My grandmother, father and I have sat down to dinner together the last three evenings. Tonight, the dining room conversation fell to the selection of brands and flavors of yogurt carried by the local grocery store. My grandmother is older than I know, she's been in and out of the hospital for kidney and heart complications, climbing in and out of a car leaves her short of breath, and she can't raise her left arm above her shoulder. My roommate Sam and I had a conversation relating to all this the night before I left. Very somber atmosphere, we had both been with our mothers from who (whom? I should know by now) we grow more detached every day, and he had been sitting alone playing video games and smoking with classic rock wafting in the air the past two hours reflecting. We collectively realized that we're exceptionally young but already quick approaching our prime, and it follows that the majority of our remaining years will be spent sliding downhill. I fear the day that I'm so preoccupied with yogurt that I forget Matlock will be on in five minutes, even the day that my insecurities force me into a car dealership, but I am none-the-less quick approaching my prime. These are the best years of my life, and clearly not because ramen, rice, and condensed family sized soup are the staples of my diet. With little exception, I can live however I choose without ever choosing. No committment and no disappointment. When I wake up at two o'clock, there are no plans for ten o'clock or the tenth of next month, and life has gotten so much easier since the calendars disappeared. The important things take care of themselves, and if they don't they're important enough that I they will be remembered or not so important that tragedy will follow their being forgotten. Let the world take care of itself while you tend to your needs. Of course this only works in small doses, tread wisely.