Time Marches On

Tomorrow another year has passed. Another year older. As my friend pointed out the other night he's now closer to 30 than I am. Bite me. What did I do with it? Not much. Thinking tonight I may have surpassed the age where, if I were to die, people wouldn't see me with unfulfilled potential. I'd like to think that I still have some left. Some part of me is still longing to go to school, now before it's too late. Several fears associated with that. What if I sign up and I can't do it? Sometimes reading even a magazine article is difficult anymore. What field of study should I choose? What won't bore me and what would I be good at? Lastly, where the hell do I find the time? These questions loom whenever my mind wanders back to finishing the enrollment. Puts me in limbo again. If I sign up it also commits me to staying here. So I wait. Knowing there is a 50 year old me in the future probably aching to beat the hell out of a 32 year old me. Looking at that I should just do it, jump in, sink or swim. At least I could say I tried, or better yet maybe I could say I did it.

The future influences the present just as much as the past.

Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life, to light the fires of passion with, from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.

— Longfellow