Turning time
It always takes me a little time to decompress after a vacation, but I think I'm now fully back into the swing of things.
Yes yes, I can feel the dreaded black cloud of hopelessness surround me as I approach my office. And as I ease into my chair for a night of work... it seems oddly like selling my soul to the devil all over again. Simply turning on my computer seems like an act of self-destruction.
It's great to feel like me again.
In truth, I probably shouldn't listen to Pink Floyd's "The Wall" at work. It's actually a tad uninspiring, and perhaps a detriment to my professional attitude.
But of course vacation time is thinking time, and if we are not careful, thinking time can be an awful scourge on our sanity. I'm happy to report that this vacation (and the few weeks since my return) actually was a happy reminder that my life is not the miserable sleep-deprived mess it once seemed.
No sir (or ma'am...), I have obtained a secret weapon against introspection and self-loathing. A fool-proof boon against the endless crashing wave of time and regret. And you too can wield this mighty sword one day, if you have not already gripped its jewel-encrusted hilt.
I am growing old, and I embrace my advancing age. Yes my friends, time has caught up with me and is seemingly passing me by. There was a time when I felt comfortably ahead of the race, and naively thought I would remain young forever, if only in heart.
No, it's time now to forsake my self-absorbed ways and to focus outside myself. In short... it's time to stop laughing so much at myself, and start laughing at the upcoming generation!
Yes, the foolhardy young who stand where I have trod, I may now crease my brow and shake the proverbial cane in their direction.
It's time to start lecturing my kids and their friends on the insane and outdated traditions of my forefathers. I realize now that my parents hadn't lost their minds when I entered my teens, they were simply grasping at sanity by amusing themselves at my confusion and tribulations at trying to figure life out. A confusion they all too willingly nurtured with their wild tales of the purpose of life and moral-impaired anecdotes wrought by life experience.
Yes.. it's time for me to join the fun. Time to light my pipe and tell the kids to stay off my lawn. Time to start spinning stories of how I made my way in life against all odds.
After all, with a few shiny exceptions, the upcoming generation seems to offer sufficient fodder for my amusement, at least enough to last until they take up the cane and shake it at their young.
And then I'll probably grin, and ask for another blanket. Content that my efforts at warping my children ingrained the same ability to laugh at life in them that my parents so gracefully endowed upon me.
