That sounds so small, four, and yet I think of all that's happened over the past 1/3 of a year, and I'm frightened.
I can't aim to do much in this post. My head is spinning with images if Egyptian artwork and word plays and standard deviations. But I do want to get a little bit out on the page about time.
Now, it's sort of late. 11 pm. I've finally decided that the pattering sound on my window sill is in fact rain. My eyes fight to stay open as I type these words. Long days around here. Not enough caffeine packed into mine, today. Thought I lost my coffee mug, but I just misplaced it.
We pack our days tight. Like cans of sardines. Or suitcases. Full of classes, meetings, video clips, meals, conversations about nutella and homework. We pack them tight because we don't want to forget anything. We can't survive if we feel like we're missing one aspect, one fish, one sock. Our luggage weighs tons, but it's all metaphorical, so we won't have trouble carrying it through customs.
Perhaps this is rambling, but it's all that I can get out for this hundredth post. I feel, and fear, the fleeting of time. Breakfast feels so long ago, and yet it still seems that I should wake up tomorrow and start my first day of Kindergarden, instead of finish my college essays. On the flip side, I've been at school for just over three weeks now, and I swear a decade has passed. I don't even want to fully unpack my things or decorate my room, because I'm convinced that I'll wake up tomorrow and graduation day will have arrived. A beautiful ship, waiting for me to embark upon it.
Hours slip through our fingers so easily. They're slick guys, hard to capture if you don't put on the right gloves. So watch out for them. Ease into them. Savor them for all their worth. Or don't. Whatever feels right, I suppose.
AND with that, 100 posts on this lovely little blog.
Off to bed.
Listen to this strange song. That's what I'm up to tonight.