We get older and life starts to become a lot more real. Not just because we start to decide what we want to do with ourselves for the next 30 years, but because everything starts to be put in perspective. My Grandfather died 2 years ago. It was really hard for me. But we are taught at a young age that Grandparents will not be around forever. Then I lost my step dad. Again, a really hard time for my family. But again, his health was failing, and it was his time to go.
But when a friend, or peer(assume I am talking about one of MY peers) or child dies, something else happens inside of you.
I lost a close friend, Mike, a few years back. Originally, he went missing after a night of music, partying and most likely, a lot more. After a few days, his body was found in a river in Portland, where he had been living. Obviously it was a tragic ending and pretty hard to take.
We still miss the shit out of you, Buddy! |
Why, might you ask, am I bringing up this pretty sad material on an otherwise happy blog? Well, mainly because I often times forget that this-what I'm doing, this life of mine, well it is real. And it is the only one I have. There is no "big event" to wait for, because it will never come. The big event is waking up each day and being alive.
A lot of times I think of old friends I haven't talked to-you know, the ones that are on my "to call" list. But days turn into weeks and months, and I don't end up calling them. I say hello on FB, or ask so and so how so and so is doing. But how am I to know what may happen to them while I'm *thinking* of calling. Amanda was very lucky. She had an urge to call her friend, about a month ago. And she went with that urge, called him and caught up. Little did she know it would be the last time they'd talk. Thinking more about this, I want to change the way I do it. Even my best best best friends I put off calling. I tell myself that I don't have the energy, or lengthy period of time to invest. But really, that's bullshit for me being lazy.
Every so often this happens. I have a desire to make a serous change in my life. I would say that change sticks about 50% of the time. For example, I haven't had a cigarette in 2 months. I've been riding my bike to work almost every morning. I make sure to eat salad at least 3 times a week. But am I writing in a journal? Am I trying new recipes once a week? Do I leave the house past 9:30 to see shows on the weekdays? the answer to all of those is a big fat NO.
With 2010 coming to a close (thank CHRIST! what an emotional and intense year...) I've been thinking about what I want 2011 to be like. Not that I plan on sharing with you all the things I want to change about myself, or the things I want to add/subtract from my life, but I don't think it is a terrible idea to have goals like this. So, while I'm alone tonight (perhaps Ill venture out to Grease Rag....it has been too long) I'm going to start making notes on the things I want to improve in the next year. I don't always like the idea of quitting something for new years. Sometimes adding things can be just as useful. and you should do the same.
And for no other reason than I enjoy this poem, and Billy Collins knows how to make you feel swell, here is a little something for you all.
You see them on porches and on lawns
down by the lakeside,
usually arranged in pairs implying a couple
who might sit there and look out
at the water or the big shade trees.
The trouble is you never see anyone
sitting in these forlorn chairs
though at one time it must have seemed
a good place to stop and do nothing for a while.
Sometimes there is a little table
between the chairs where no one
is resting a glass or placing a book facedown.
It might be none of my business,
but it might be a good idea one day
for everyone who placed those vacant chairs
on a veranda or a dock to sit down in them
for the sake of remembering
whatever it was they thought deserved
to be viewed from two chairs
side by side with a table in between.
The clouds are high and massive that day.
The woman looks up from her book.
The man takes a sip of his drink.
Then there is nothing but the sound of their looking,
the lapping of lake water, and a call of one bird
then another, cries of joy or warning—
it passes the time to wonder which.
Happy Friday Jr.
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