02.27.13 - 10:03 pm

i glanced through a box of old love letters tonight. like fifteen year old love letters. the only reason i was able to do this was because of facebook.

ugh. facebook. it steals everything from me. every desire to write. to expand on my thoughts. to record what events trivial and significant occur in my life. there is a direct correlation to my involvement with that social media site and the decline in the written record of my existence.

but it allowed a message to get through. just one message more important than the rest.

and then there was wine and a shoe box once sealed in duck tape. a chronological file of hand written letters. deeply personal. thoughtfully crafted. carefully prepared.

i do nothing on this sort of level anymore. and it strikes me as terribly depressing.

i dont hand write letters except a few sentences in hallmark cards purchased a few times a year. i dont create memories. i dont save any of this stuff. years from now all of this will be a blank spot in my memory. and this is what i dislike worst of all.

the goal line is the end of my job. i feel like once that is crossed i can be who i want to be again. i can do what i want and not so restricted. but i am also completely aware that the finish line is arbitrary. an excuse. i can do anything i want right now.

i just lack the willpower of my youth. i lack the motivation to be productive in anything other than the motions of a 31 year old temporarily employed middle class white male.

meanwhile knowing that as a life on this planet....i deserve to be in go pro commercials.