Musing Upon 19

Stephen King was right. It's all about 19. A decade ago I was 19 and while life was still a vast, seemingly limitless expanse before my third eye, I could already sense its precipitous and fleeting nature. An early hint of that feeling which sunk in somewhere in the mid-twenties - when life suddenly felt very short and swooping past at an alarming rate. As if one had just been shoved off a cliff and realized the surroundings were moving faster and faster and the ground loomed larger and closer.

19 is like noon. It becomes the reference point of our lives. In the morning we always look towards noon. In the afternoon we look back at it. It's the turning point. And 19 (or somewhere thereabouts) is when things start to shift. Those deviously intangible things that only make clear sense in our minds. Where if we attempted to describe it to another human being we would stumble awkwardly over the words and then give up and go watch football. At 19 you can look up at those lovely eastern clouds at sunset (the ones that soar like mountains, but are painted in glorious blues and purples with white peaks illuminated by the sun as it fondly waves goodbye for the night) and imagine seeing whatever dream those clouds inspire actually come true. But in later years, that confidence fades, the swirling pull of time floods those dreams with doubts and all we can do is imagine another reality where such dreams are possible.

19 is a time when everything is incredibly slow, though we do not realize at the time. The 19 reality is vivid and sharp, as if Life itself wants to impress upon you the importance of that era. Like how a ball thrown into the air pauses for a moment at its highest point. Timelessness.

On a September evening in my 29th year I went running beneath a magnificent sky which held a modest assortment of those soaring, mountainous clouds I so love. On my Iphone (a device my 19 year old self would have marveled at) I listened to a song I first heard almost exactly a decade before. It had the same feeling as back then, though perhaps with some added layers from the years. As often happens I felt as if I could literally still be 19 - as if I could run right through a hole in reality and find myself 10 years in the past and it would seem perfectly fitting. And it hit me that a decade from now I'll likely still feel the same way. As if I've only been on this planet a matter of hours and that there is no possible way I have experienced all those years. And that nauseous falling feeling will begin to claw at me. That this cannot be reality, life cannot be this short, I'm only 19! There's still an ocean of time and possibilities and opportunities and experiences and lives to live spread out before me!

But only the 19 year old sees that ocean. The later versions instead see the edge of the abyss, like those old paintings when people believed the earth was flat and that ships would just sail off into nothingness. Or instead maybe there's a massive wall of water that with each passing day or year looms closer and closer. The inevitable in all its glory.

And so the 29 year old renews his vows that he must fill his remaining years with meaning, with accomplishments, with moments that he wishes would drag out a little slower - like a ball at its highest point.

September Pause

Has it really been nearly 3 weeks since I last wrote something on here? Things have been busy. Free time - such as time to spend typing random gibberish on a blog that resides on a dusty, seldom-traveled side road of the internet - has become a scarce commodity.

But it's Friday evening....I just got over being sick for the last two weeks...I've been going nonstop with schoolwork and I'm just a little rundown and out of gas. I took a break last night for the Canes victory over Georgia Tech...but I still feel the need for more idle time. How about those Canes? Are we finally back? Man, I hope so....it's been a long, miserable few years of watching my beloved Canes' dynasty crumble and then be rebuilt. We Canes fans have suffered greatly - had our hearts broken (by other teams, our own team, and a certain coach who shall not be named) - had to endure the freakin' Florida Gators rise to dominance. And now...maybe...just maybe...we're back.

How about those Bears??? meh....not so much. Urlacher breaks his wrist and is done for the year. Cutler and the offense have a meltdown against the Packers. Ugh.......

I passed up drafting Adrian Peterson in my fantasy league's draft. (So did a couple of other people) I went with the Bears' Matt Forte instead - because he gets lot of receptions and receiving yards. Peterson typically does not. In fantasy football -- that matters! But after week 1 I am filled with regret. Especially when I see those cool Nike commercials where Adrian Peterson is running all over a dark, snowy field, tossing opponents out of the way as ominous music plays and finally at the end he sits down at his locker and appears to be some sort of alien or creature or secret army project. Awesome commercial....but nevertheless it shrouds my soul in the mists of Fantasy Draft Regret. It is a common and unfortunate affliction.

The latest Muse album (The Resistance) came out this week. It is quite frankly, unreal. Lyrically it's like protest music for those who see the insidious socialistic workings going on in our world today. A pre-emptive call to rise against the movements to a one-world-government, a fascist/socialist America, etc. If you're angry at the socialists - or just don't like any of the people in power (worldwide) and if you don't like the way our modern society tries to program us -- then you will find solace and a kindred spirit in this album. Musically they continue to evolve. One can hear a connection to their last album (Blackholes and Revelations), as well as David Bowie and Queen influences. A wide swathe of genres are represented -- from synthesizer-heavy foot-stompers to rhythmic hip-hop/pop vibes and the considerable orchestral arrangements. It feels like a concept album...like something from a by-gone era when bands made music because it was art and it came from inside them -- not just to put out hit singles and cash-in. I can't stop listening to it and I fear i will burn myself out on it soon.....like a moth to a flame....or a man to a beautiful girl....or Chaz to a beer.