Tuesday, November 15, 2005
from way back.
about a year ago, this guy i knew in high school died. he died from jumping off a bridge. he'd had a lot of drug problems, but had recently made sort of a new start, and was at a prestigious graduate school and engaged to be married to someone.
i just now remembered, a year later, that he told me once that he planned to live his life like he was going to die at thirty (or twenty-five, maybe; i can't remember). he told me that if he died or didn't make it that far, at least he wouldn't have fucked around not doing the things he wanted most to do; and if he lived longer, it was like, hey, free extra years.
i can't believe i forgot that until yesterday. colin was a few months younger than i am, so he didn't make it to thirty. and i'm not sure that taking a bazillion drugs was what he "wanted most" to do--although, maybe it was. he told me when we were sixteen that drugs saved him from committing suicide. not forever, i guess.
anyway. i remember poo-poo-ing the argument, but at the time it never occurred to me i would get this close to thirty without doing a few things that were way up on my list. some of those: not under my control. some of them: seem to have taken a back seat for five years to my efforts to figure shit out.
item: figuring shit out may be an intensely worthwhile engagement. i suspect it is best, though, not to wait to do until after you've figured, because the figuring seems to be a long-term proposition.
i keep thinking about how i'd like to have kids, and about how everything i think i don't have time to tackle right now will be way, way harder for twenty years after i do. now is clearly the time for suzuki classes and disciplined writing projects. and for trips and travels, and to do what the independent do.
it's seeming to take me a long time to take this message to heart. i don't want to be one of those people who just quietly lets go. the one who's least afraid used to always trill "these are the days!" when we were in college. it appears that these are still the days, and it's time (gently, i'm saying) to do a little more doing.
i just now remembered, a year later, that he told me once that he planned to live his life like he was going to die at thirty (or twenty-five, maybe; i can't remember). he told me that if he died or didn't make it that far, at least he wouldn't have fucked around not doing the things he wanted most to do; and if he lived longer, it was like, hey, free extra years.
i can't believe i forgot that until yesterday. colin was a few months younger than i am, so he didn't make it to thirty. and i'm not sure that taking a bazillion drugs was what he "wanted most" to do--although, maybe it was. he told me when we were sixteen that drugs saved him from committing suicide. not forever, i guess.
anyway. i remember poo-poo-ing the argument, but at the time it never occurred to me i would get this close to thirty without doing a few things that were way up on my list. some of those: not under my control. some of them: seem to have taken a back seat for five years to my efforts to figure shit out.
item: figuring shit out may be an intensely worthwhile engagement. i suspect it is best, though, not to wait to do until after you've figured, because the figuring seems to be a long-term proposition.
i keep thinking about how i'd like to have kids, and about how everything i think i don't have time to tackle right now will be way, way harder for twenty years after i do. now is clearly the time for suzuki classes and disciplined writing projects. and for trips and travels, and to do what the independent do.
it's seeming to take me a long time to take this message to heart. i don't want to be one of those people who just quietly lets go. the one who's least afraid used to always trill "these are the days!" when we were in college. it appears that these are still the days, and it's time (gently, i'm saying) to do a little more doing.
