The Elegance of Cattle

It's hard, I've learned, to pose a legitimate threat when you're just barely over 5 feet tall.

Copper Sand

I feel like time must be managed as if it were a set of scales: The past and future. If you fill your days with past, obsess over everything you should of done, all the bittersweet memories and regrets, then the scales tip, and the past ultimately becomes not only your future, but your life. Admittedly, history is always doomed to repeat itself. But if you live your life in the past, it brings it to a whole other scale.

On the other hand, there's the future. When you obsess over the future, over every moment and how it will play out, what you will do in life, where you're going and what must happen, then you cease living. You're not even taking in the present, not even bothering to admire the time you have now. You're just anticipating the future, focusing your every waking moment on your far off goal. And when that happens, you're just existing in a sort of half-life, and not living.

The obvious key of course, in this theory, is balancing the scales. A fool could deduce that. But the reason for this post isn't exactly to wage philosophical about scales and timetables, so much as my utter lack of "time management", so to speak. I'm either drowning in memories, consumed with things I should've said, should've done, or I'm obsessed with the future, with all my dreams and hopes and ambitions and sometimes how pointless and unattainable it all seems.

So. Remember the good times fondly. Take heed of the bad memories, in hopes you can learn things from then. Be excited for your ambitions. Don't dread, but anticipate the future bad times.

Try to balance the scales.

Of Carpets and Wagons

It's been a good few weeks since I last posted here, and I apologize for my belated virtual welcoming of the new year. According to a majority of people, this is the year we are all swept into oblivion and die.

Lovely.

The past few days have been depressingly tense in my family situation. As per usual, my father has been silently bemoaning his job, and acting for all the world like some sort of lion, stalking the kitchen and living room and easily enraged upon the slightest thing. I'm sure it's evident how much fun the weekend family interaction has been.