Lots to say & no drive to say it.

I'm not talking much here anymore. I suppose that's alright. I'm tired of thinking of everything in my life as something to potentially write about. I have a lot to say and no matter how much I want to say it... the sentences and paragraphs aren't coming together. I still update my two Tumblrs regularly and tweet and am on facebook and all that. I still internet it up, but I'm reading less blogs and trying to spend shorter units of time on the computer and am trying to focus on just... living. Living for the sake of living. Living my life and keeping some of it to myself. This isn't some kind of declaration that I'll never write again or anything so black and white, just that if you don't see me much, I'm ok.

I'm still here, chief.

how we do.

Time is, how shall I put this...? Weird. Time is weird.

There seems to be one consistent theme about getting older - time moves faster. It's like lightning. You can't slow it down, no matter how hard you try to live consciously and presently and IN every single moment. I'm worried it's not possible to savor it. Time moves so incredibly fast for me that it frightens me. How is it the middle of January? How is it 2011? How am I turning 30 this summer?

30. I've never thought very tangibly about what comes after 30. Sure, I've thought, "Oh! When Silas is 18 I'll be 38!" or, "Hey, someday I'll retire and travel a bunch. I'll be like 60 or something then."... these were abstract visualizations. I didn't actually picture myself at that age in my head or think much about what I'd be doing or who I'd be friends with or what my passions in life would be. They were just kind of a number. I've thought quite tangibly about 30, there's nothing abstract about it. I've got to say, a lot of the things happening in my reality are either similar or better than what I had hoped and imagined. I think I'll like 30, but it's a bit off-putting to know that in 8 months I will be the oldest I ever pictured myself being. That's... that's weird. Not like life will be over, just the opposite. This time speeding up thing makes that tricky though. Like, before I know it, it will be 2015 and Marty McFly will show up at my house in the DeLorean.

I mean, my kid doesn't wear jeans with a single number size anymore, just the inseam and waist measurements. That is trippy.