I?ve written a couple of times lately about how I?m no longer a ?kid?. If you?re tired of hearing me talk about my pre-life crisis, then I?m sorry, but you need to move on and find something else to read?
There probably couldn?t be a better day for me to write an entry like this, really. Today, as I slowly leave my teenage years officially in the past, I take yet another psycho-analytical look at my life, as it is now, and as it shall slowly become.
As I leave behind my childhood, I look back on a flood of memories. Some good, some bad; some filled with happiness, others overflowing with sadness.
In these random flashes of my life that flow before my eyes, I see my first girlfriend, I remember our first (and only) date, and I recall how hurt I was when she actually ended it, even though there hadn?t been anything there to begin with. For the first time in what had seemed like years, I had actually cried.
I remember sunny weekends of my childhood spent at the zoo and out and about with my dad and (at times) my little brother. With those memories of grilled cheese sandwiches and pretzel sticks, honey-nut cheerios, spaghetti-o?s, superted cartoons, and care-free weekends also come their sad endings as we all returned to the harsh work-week reality that we had come from.
Also at the fore-front of my memories is the feeling of freedom and liberation when I got my first car. It served me very well for a long time, but also brings back memories of very depressing relationships and the hardships and heartaches they brought.
I remember those first few innocent crushes in middle and high school, and how the feelings some of them brought last even to today.
I remember birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, weddings, and funerals. I remember being mad at my mom for having to work all the time, and the late nights spent watching Star Trek in her bed while she was working at the hospital. I remember moving from my childhood home, back home to be closer to my mom?s family. I remember cheating on tests, my first kiss, and the first time I stole something. I also remember how guilty I felt as soon as I did it, and every time I thought about it for months after.
I remember fights with my brother, as well as the long summer days when we were finally old enough to stay home alone, spent wiling away watching stupid children?s shows on Nick and PBS. I remember wonderful teachers, as well as bullies. I remember book reports, essays, and science projects not done until the very last minute.
I remember days when my mom would take me into work with her when I?d be happier than could be for no real reason. The woman in the office next to her would pay me a quarter an hour to put things in ABC order for her ? but don?t tell anyone!
As I look back on the last 20 years of my life, and the last 5 years of which I?ve been working, it?s a huge mass of flooded images. There?s no pattern, no logic, no order to them, and I can?t turn off the flow.
I can?t stop the past from living on inside of me anymore than I can stop the future from moving on outside of me. All I can do is trudge on day after day, contributing what little I can to the world around me, and try to make sense of it all.
Here?s to life and waiting for a mid-life crisis?
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