1000 Hits
Well, folks, we are approaching 1,000 hits here at Commonwealth Recipes. I feel as if I should celebrate this momentous occasion by enjoying a couple stogies and a gentleman's serving of single malt. But I shall refrain, and instead discuss the passing of my 22nd year.
This past weekend, much to my surprise, I turned 23. My birthday really snuck up on me. Dare I say I doubted its sneakiness? Not ten minutes ago, it would seem, I was raging drunk at the bar, surrounded by my fellow Frat Lords, drawing hash marks on my arm as I crawled towards 21 drinks. This time around - only two years later, mind you - I drank boxed wine on the couch and fell asleep before my birthday was technically over. I'm not suggesting I didn't have fun. In fact, I had a great time, and I actually remembered everything this time around. What I am suggesting, however, is that time seems to be speeding up at an uncontrollable rate.
When I was younger, let's say before high school, birthdays were a huge deal. I would spend months planning the perfect party. The right mix of guests, the best food, and, of course, what presents I wanted to receive. I loved getting older. But now, at 23 years, 2 days, 10 hours, and 51 minutes, I would gladly forfeit any and all forthcoming presents for another birthday that seemed to approach at a tortuously slow rate. I want to get off the aging train right here, thank you.
No, I take that back. Aging is inevitable, and it would be a waste of my time to fear (or fight) the inevitable. Too many years have already been lost to that cause. So, I guess, I want to slow the passage of time, right? But is that not the same? If we suppose that time does, in fact, fly when you are having fun, wouldn't it mean that I have to live a substandard existence in order to slow time? And I don't want to do that. Until I achieve a higher mental state where time stands still, I shall assume that the rapid passage of time is good news because it means I am livin' it up every minute.
Oh, and yeah, I shall also assume that doctors cure death before I am scheduled to die. Modern science shall break the shackles of the human condition.
This past weekend, much to my surprise, I turned 23. My birthday really snuck up on me. Dare I say I doubted its sneakiness? Not ten minutes ago, it would seem, I was raging drunk at the bar, surrounded by my fellow Frat Lords, drawing hash marks on my arm as I crawled towards 21 drinks. This time around - only two years later, mind you - I drank boxed wine on the couch and fell asleep before my birthday was technically over. I'm not suggesting I didn't have fun. In fact, I had a great time, and I actually remembered everything this time around. What I am suggesting, however, is that time seems to be speeding up at an uncontrollable rate.
When I was younger, let's say before high school, birthdays were a huge deal. I would spend months planning the perfect party. The right mix of guests, the best food, and, of course, what presents I wanted to receive. I loved getting older. But now, at 23 years, 2 days, 10 hours, and 51 minutes, I would gladly forfeit any and all forthcoming presents for another birthday that seemed to approach at a tortuously slow rate. I want to get off the aging train right here, thank you.
No, I take that back. Aging is inevitable, and it would be a waste of my time to fear (or fight) the inevitable. Too many years have already been lost to that cause. So, I guess, I want to slow the passage of time, right? But is that not the same? If we suppose that time does, in fact, fly when you are having fun, wouldn't it mean that I have to live a substandard existence in order to slow time? And I don't want to do that. Until I achieve a higher mental state where time stands still, I shall assume that the rapid passage of time is good news because it means I am livin' it up every minute.
Oh, and yeah, I shall also assume that doctors cure death before I am scheduled to die. Modern science shall break the shackles of the human condition.
posted by Dr. Cook at 2:04 PM
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