Tuesday, November 18, 2003

When Butterfly Flutters Become Hurricanes...

Getting older. Time is doing it's job, and working a lot of overtime. Saw my old high school principal at the bank. Back then, he was the Lex Luthor to my Superman. Now he looked...really small, and just like any other older guy. What hatred we had for each other, was now reduced to a couple of curious glances. Recognition? I don't know. Really doesn't matter much anymore anyhow. I could give a crap, it's been so long.

Saw an old friend today who came into my work. She was the whole girl next door/Winnie Cooper thing to my Kevin Arnold Wonder Years. She came in with her mother and her new baby. I started telling her about other friends of ours that we knew from high school that have had kids too. I was kind of shocked by just how many names started to spill out of me when we started to talk about who was having what. Geez, it seems like I'm in the minority when it comes to marriage and being a parent. It's strange to see somebody, that for you, represented a whole period of your life. I'm not saying I was all googly-boogly eyes over her when we were talking, it was very nice - but what I meant was that looking now at somebody that you used to see almost all of the time so long ago makes you feel strange. Like a ghost just wisped up to you and tousled your hair. Afterward, you end up trying to fix it back like it was before, but your increasing bald spots make it harder.

Everything is moving too fast. It always has. Back then - I was aware enough to notice it, but somewhere down the line, I stopped recording how fast it was actually traveling. Am I being left behind? Am I putting it off? Or does time exist for everyone else...but just not for me?

Somebody needs a nap.

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