Out the Door

I suppose it’s inevitable, but every once in a while, I feel as though I’ve passed my “best used by” date which means it’s off to the trash heap for me. And it’s hard to argue with that because I do look and feel overripe, blotchy, and saggy. On the other hand, it’s the normal state of affairs for people my age, and most of my friends are either in the same boat or on the way to getting there whether they know it or not.

Oddly enough, my brain feels pretty much like it always has. I like technology. Music. Books. I write every day, and I’ve started editing and producing little videos. All of that is fun, and challenging. I have no idea where any of this will take me, but that’s never been the point for me. It was always about my internal monologue as I wrestled with ideas about art and beauty and life. I guess this late form writing is how I’m finally putting some of those ideas out there, but it doesn’t feel as though there’s a great deal of cohesion, to the effort.

In fact, they seem like little more than tiny observations. Although maybe that’s how most of us view life, picking up tidbits of knowledge here and there. As we do, we piece together an approach to life from the fragments of that experience, creating that coat of many colors that says, this is me, hoping all the while that it’s enough to get us included in a circle of friends or even a family group. Because having a robust internal monologue is fun and all, but it’s nice to have someone hug you and say, “You’re amazing.”