Yesterday every blog post and Facebook status I came across
seemed to marvel and mourn over the passage of time. Tempus fugit. The time, it
is flying. Look out.
Thinking that every moment is immeasurably precious and irreplaceable is way too much pressure.
Thinking that every moment is immeasurably precious and irreplaceable is way too much pressure.
I also stumbled over Forbes' ten
most important things that 20-somethings should know. And Forbes' twenty
things that 20-somethings don't get. In two months, I'll be twenty-eight.
Judging from my life so far, despite being more than halfway through my 20's,
it seems I don't get or know any of the most important things. I have not
devoted myself to a lucrative career or made a very decisive choice about what
the fuck I want to do with my life. I have not fretted over my waning
fertility. I have tried to calculate my hours of expertise in various things
and I am nowhere near 10 000 hours in anything.* Before moving in with the
Boatman, I did not vacillate over the implications of co-habitation. After one
month of skyping and phone calls and one weekend visit, the Boatman said I
could come stay with him as long as I want, and (I
wanted to fuck his soul) so I did. More than two years later, we are
still together, co-habitating and living in sin. But according to
Forbes' ten most important things list, I may have made a huge mistake.
I am failing all the internet lists.
Hate that.
I need to read lists about things that I never fucked up.
Things that I will never fuck up.
"50 reasons I regret starring in bestiality porn."
"33 unusual things I wished I'd known before I opened
my cocaine business."
I can read these lists and feel no regrets.
Success.
I've mentioned this before but every month just as my vagina
is ceasing to bleed, I feel overcome by all the babies I never gave birth to. All
the books I never wrote. All the ten thousand hours I never put in.
This is something I call the Vag Time Death.
It is the One Thing I Invented During My Twenties.
The End.
(*For yoga, I have somewhere between 4000-5000 hours
depending on whether or not you count meditation, teaching, reading, and geeking
out on Youtube and other parts of the internet. Since it has been
scientifically proven that getting up a 4 a.m. for a two-hour plus
practice results in me lashing out irrationally at other sentient beings, I
must reconcile myself to a maximum of 1.5 hours of relatively daily
practice. Which leaves me with 12-15 years before I become a 10 000 hour
expert... Oh well.)
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