I used to be fascinated with the passage of time. I still am, I suppose. My watch chirps at me on the hour to remind me that my time is passing. I love calendars and diaries and journals and notebooks and all things similar. (Have you noticed?!) When I was younger and not as digital, I used to write things on calendars. I always had one handy. I used to write every little thing. I pulled a few out of the closet tonight to look for something. I can tell you now, for instance, almost a decade later, that on January 31, 1991, I wrote myself a note to, “Be T.C. not C.B.” And I can sit here in August 2000 and remember that at that particular point in my life I wanted to be more like Tom Cruise and less like Charlie Brown. I can tell you that on July 25 (my half-brother Michael’s birthday) I really “broke up” with Kim Taylor. Apparently I had attempted to break up with her on the 21st, but it didn’t stick. Comically enough I started seeing a different girl named Kim on the 28th and on the 31st we watched 101 Dalmations at her house before she left for Texas for two weeks. It’s funny that I can look back at the shortest little comments – “Pizza & Molson w/Lanie & D. Bloom”, “wrote note to Liz”, “Mr. Tux w/Paula & Jenny” – and they can remind me exactly what was happening. This blog isn’t anything like that. I can’t go back to a date three weeks ago and tell you what I was doing or why I blogged something. Well. Okay. Maybe I can. Hmmm. I guess I’m just thinking out loud. You go ahead and go about your business. I’ll come back later and maybe make a point. Don’t hold your breath.
