It's one of those adjectives to describe old people, which, like all older people, I kind of resent. I'm fifty-six, and it's is one of those ages that, when people of that age die, the younger ones say "Ah, but they've already lived most of their lives". And like everyone my age, I want to... Continue Reading →
How Many Memories Can a Woodchuck Chuck?
So I'm fifty-six, and I'm trying to find my head around this fact. How did I get so old? (Easy answer, by not dying before, but it's still shocking.) I've been chugging through certain memories and feelings and realizing that they don't always make sense. I have a distinct memory of being happy or unhappy... Continue Reading →
The New World
I was, in the past, of the school that everything we experience is just a variation on a theme, and everything has more or less happened before. I was a "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it," sort of person; look at the past and learn from it. Shakespeare still resonates... Continue Reading →
The Things that Count
So I'm fifty six, and I'm trying to find my head around this fact. How did I get so old? (Easy answer, by not dying before, but it's still shocking.) I've been chugging through certain memories and feelings and realizing that they don't always make sense. In some memories, I felt one way at home... Continue Reading →
Moove your cow, and your mind will follow. 