Thursday, June 19, 2003


It’s depressing to think about time. In fact, the more time I spend thinking about time, the less time I then have to do other things.

There are so many sayings revolving around time, or the lack of it. It flies when you’re having fun, it waits for no man, it’s of the essence, it heals all wounds, and yet it continues to march on. If I could save time in a bottle, where would I keep it? Would it have an expiration date?

The older I get, the more I’m aware that the end of my time is speeding toward me. What drives us to continue on? Why do we struggle to learn new things, make new friends, and dream of retirement when we know that in the end, none of it matters!

My job is a daily reminder that there is not enough time in a day to get everything done. I find myself wanting more time to spend with my kids, my wife and all of my other family members and friends near and far.

I miss my grandparents, who’s time ran out a few years back, and I miss my dogs, who suffered the same fate of not enough time.

Modern medicine is helping us gain more time, but we can never truly win. In the end, your time is up! We’re getting more and more into cybernetics. Replacing body parts with mechanical parts. I wonder if we’ll reach the point of being able to sustain ourselves indefinitely, or until a rather nasty accident takes us out of the gene pool for good.

Should we pursue a life of immortality, or continue to try and prolong our existence. And to what end? I for one plan on doing what I can to live forever, but I’m certain that fate will have other ideas.

I’m trying to research my family history, for myself, and for my kids. It amazes me that time has moved so quickly that much of my family has now become utterly forgotten. Their contributions and lives on this little blue planet have fallen between the cracks.

One of my other projects is to get my thoughts down in written form, so that my family can at least read what was going on in my head here and now. Unfortunately, I seem to have little time to do this.

My daughters are growing up rapidly, my hair is turning grey, and my body sounds like a bowl of Rice Krispies with my bones snapping, crackling, and popping. I still feel young, but physically the signs are beginning to show.

So why do we continue living? Working every day to make money that we know darn well is completely unnecessary in the afterlife. It’s a mystery to me.

I have given you all a precious amount of my life here just relaying my thoughts. Time possibly better spent doing other things. Yet I feel the need to share my existence with you all. To leave a mark on the world, no matter how small it is. And hopefully, you will not feel that I have wasted your time in reading my ramblings.

Thank you for spending a small portion of your time allotment reading this blog. Perhaps we’ll all get a good laugh at this entry when we’re 437 years old!

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