Thursday 16 April 2015

What I want to talk about when talking about passing time

Time is a concept of which its meaning until recently has eluded me.

The thing that brought it home was this: This year I turn 35. By any normal metrics this would seem like not much to write about, but in the absence of said measurements, I am now halfway through an average normal man's life. I am, in fact, at my peak.

Perspective is:

- Olivia who is almost 18 months speaking 2 languages, sleeping on average 12 or more hours a day. She's been sleeping more than half her life.
 - A normal American consumes 1 tonne of food a year. Adjusting for being Asian, and therefore a glutton (and my childhood for which I was largely fat) I'd say I've consumed in total 30 tonnes of food. I weigh 0.075 tonnes, therefore I've shat out a lot.
- I've grown up with technology and now its evaded me.

Okay, I admit, I really want to write about love. 

Remember the first time you fell for someone? That heart wrenching feeling whenever they were absent? Filling teenage notebooks with inspirational quotes from Gibran, or similarly attempting prose fueled with cheap booze? Or, wistfully remembering the one who you decided to let go of? Or, the failed relationship which you let yourself be beaten up over? 

Take heart. I once read somewhere that no matter how much you try and remember past pain, it never affects you in its original glory the way that the memories of joy do.

I remember meeting OH, and falling for him absolutely. While my superego was consciously playing the game of "interested-but-maybe-not", my Id had decided that OH was IT.

10 years later; a third of my relative life remembered. 

I have friends far and wide, old and new, past and present, who have shaped me: made me the bon-vivant, the asshole, the joker, the worrier. The person, and the meta-person that I am.

You know who you all are, and I love each and every one of you.

Namaste.