Years Gone By

Dear J-

I’m finding more and more ways to while my life away online without actually doing anything. Virtual ink is spilled, pixels shuttered on and off at my whims but one EMP later and it’s all so easily gone. There’s a thousand things that you can spend tiime doing but I suppose the entertainment value of having yuor name in print offsets the time it sucks down from your life. At any rate, that now makes three primarily blogging accounts and two social networks. If I wasn’t disconnected from the physical world yet I might as well be now. Great.

Then again five years from now I’m sure that the things I thought were totallly profound will turn out to be as ephemeral as the food that seems to disappear from Calcifer’s plate every time I turn around (that kid’s gonna be an eater). It always seems to happen that way; things you spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about turn out fine without much further intervention; it’s the little things that’ll trip you up. For want of a nail and all that, right? As long as you’re willing to be alive, though, that’s how long you’re going to have worries. We all have them: we worry about money and stretching our budget, figgy worries about the next dessert, Calcifer worries at his teeth (now showing, a double feature starring canines).

In the big scheme of things having to wrry about having too much time is so ridiculously leisure-class I can’t begin to describe how privleged I feel. I keep meaning to figure out different things around the house and life (what’ll we do about the saggy closet, should I scan that bigger-than-a-shoebox of photos, what’s next for us in five years, in ten; do I walk away thinking I’ve done as much as I can?) but for now it’s jusst enough to have the time available to watch the days and years churn by.



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