Monday, August 10, 2009

Box of Chocolates...

August 10. 2009. It's strange. 10 days from now it'll be one of my closest friend's 23rd birthday. The 13th of next month will be mine. Twenty-three years. That's quite a number. If we lived to a sure age of 100, we could safely say that I have practically lived out a quarter of my life. Yet we can't even say that. I've possibly surpassed the quarter of my life already. Not to be grim though. Just being a little imaginative, and thoughtful of the future and what it holds for me I guess. Life is going by, and I can't stop, pause, or rewind it. It's what I make it for myself, and it feels so big in the scheme of things sometimes. Overwhelming. So much I want to do, want to be, but that damn clock hangs on the wall of our lives ticking away without fail or exhaustion. Am I wasting time? Am I making the most of it? I think this whole world can use a little more. A little more time to accomplish what we need to, to make who we are, to really take our time and never have to wonder if it's too late. Time to just define ourselves in some way or another. I fear sometimes I won't make/leave a mark. People say our children are probably the greatest accomplishments of our lives. That's scary too. As you can see all around us, there are a lot of people that make living harder than it already is.

I think the society we live in makes it inherently hard to live and be happy at the same time. I think the best we can do to leave our mark is to make living a little bit easier for everybody else in our own way. Some people go off to war, die in a foreign land, and are never able to say that they've lived out a quarter of their potential life, just so we can go on living our own and say that we have. The world is so big sometimes, that we never notice these individual tragedies, or think about it often. Isn't that the nature of life though? I mean it's not like we can stop our own because of the tragedy of another. We have to go on don't we? The clock keeps ticking for the rest of us. That's why I think sometimes, that in my choice of work, to potentially spend my life doing, to be a writer, to be creative, --sometimes I fear that I won't be able to do enough, or make a significant mark. But I guess if I can make someone feel/forget/be entertained/be happy/laugh, for about an hour and a half of their life, just sitting there eating popcorn; I've made a small difference. I think that's all we can ever hope to do... make a small difference in making the world, and the people around us, happier.