I haven’t written over the last few days.
It all started with a trip to Boston with friends. No, that’s not right. It all stopped with a trip to Boston with friends.
I drove to Boston with 10 friends who are all half my age. And it became very apparent. I’m not sure where or when it happened but at some point in my journey I’ve become the old guy who has to get his sleep. Everyone else was up ’til 2 or 4 in the monrning. Some by choice, some by force. And then they all got up early to start the next day. I couldn’t have done that even if I wanted to. Those days seem to be passed.
It could be my age or it could be the extra person I carry around with me in this skin. I’m not talking about Jesus or the Holy Spirit here or even the embryo of my twin who didn’t make it. I’m just carrying enough extra weight to be hiding Nicole Richie in this body of flesh with me. Not that she would mind hiding out for a while but I’m not really into that.
I noticed I was sinking into a depression after we got back. First day was fine but little motivation. Second day was o.k. but less motivation, more to do and a black cloud hovering with one bit of bad news after another. On day 3 I slept in for a couple hours and was amazed to discover that after a little sleep I didn’t feel like volunteering for a top secret, no way you’ll come back alive, military op for CSIS.
I need to pay attention to both those things. Gotta make a point of getting in shape this year and getting more rest. Simple. Hard.
I’m tired of days with empty spaces though. Even filling days up with stuff that’s no more than empty calories (stay with me, not talking about food anymore…) has become a revelation of wasting a perfectly good life.
My question of the day/week/month: who would I be and what would I be doing if I committed myself to being the me I was created to be?
I’m slightly terrified of finding the answer to that question as I think it may invade my space.