Time Passes Anyway

Someone once told me that time passes chronologically, but we our lives are lived out of sequence.  I couldn't understand what that really meant.  But, I do know that things from 15 years ago feel like yesterday. And events from the other day sometimes feels so long ago, I can barely remember why it happened .  So how can we reconcile how we spend our lives when yesterday feels like it never happened, but our childhood is so tangible we can touch it?  And what does it even mean to live out of sequence?

Time is a really funny thing.  We spend, save, and even waste it like money.  We manage it, foolishly, as if it's something we can hang onto.  We ask for it to be quality time, whatever that is.  We plan our days around time, making sure that we are fully committed at every hour of the day; we even plan when to sleep.  We use it mark the segments in between life events.  Everything we do, and everything we don't do, it's almost always about time.

But time passes anyway, no matter what we do with ourselves.  The sun goes down, and then comes back again.  It's always done that since before we had life, and it will keep doing it long after we die.

I had lunch with someone today, an old, wonderful friend Marcelle, who I never see enough.  As we caught up, told stories of work stress, new puppies, promotions, therapy sessions, and hip thingies, both of us interjected questions proving that time is a social convention we can't even articulate.  Neither of us could remember when big important life event -like masters degrees or breakups- even happened.  But we knew they did.  Isn't that all that really matters anyway?   I can't tell you how old her brother is now, or when she finished graduate school, but we spent most of the time together today laughing like no time had even passed between us at all.  

It had me thinking that I now know what living out of sequence means, and I think it's not really about time at all.  The desire to measure our lives in bits and pieces is merely about managing the relationships we have with others.  Some are hugely important, like friends and family.  Some are necessary like our co-workers or bosses.  But time really only exists for us, so I know when to pick you up, or when to clock out.  It's important so I know how long it will take to get someplace, or when our beach trip is.  It matters only so I can quantify how I spend today.  The sequence doesn't matter, but rather, it's the value of our interactions.  That's why there are years of my adult life that almost don't exist in my memory.  

I can walk away from lunch today knowing that it's at least six months before I see my old wonderful friend again. But six months makes nearly no difference to me.  We'll find ten new things to talk about all over again.  We'll skip over the day to day, but it won't feel that way.  And it won't even matter.  The place that relationship has in my life will never be altered, it will never be weathered; it won't age, it won't diminish.  The sequence isn't logical, and it never can be.

Time just isn't real.  Only people are real.

What a long strange trip it's been

If you're reading this, you probably know me.  And if you know me, you are aware that I live my life in a perpetual state of song lyrics.  This week has been no exception.

Hey, so I'm not particularly a fan of The Grateful Dead.  Don't get me wrong, Garcia was a super talented guitarist, and let's face it, Jerry Bears are pretty cute.  They've just never been my thing;  the last three or four days, however, I've found myself continuously singing those words in my head.  Strange it has been.

The past year of my life has been a whirlwind.  I went from Band Girlfriend to Solo Act in the span of 12 months.  Literally.  TxB's band played one of the first "real" gigs on my actual birthday last year.  I gathered the people I loved the most in this world, and we all went out to booze it up for them.  I remember glow sticks and patron shots.  What's a girl to do when her boyfriend is playing on her birthday?  Suck it up and play nice.  And hey, I probably didn't realize I hated that so much.  It seemed sort of fun at that time.

My actual birthday this year was spent in the worst class of my entire academic career.  The professor is dreadful.  And yet, I felt so much more grounded in my own skin, so much happier to be sitting in that classroom than I ever did as Band Girlfriend.  And, I got to have dinner with my Unlikely Friend, who, as it turns out, is more important to me than nearly anyone else I have ever known.  On a whim.  Happy birthday to me!

In this year, the most significant relationship in my life ended.  It's been a hard, rocky road.  Inner panic, outer panic, fear, sadness, lust, envy, joy, excitement.  A whirlwind, indeed.

But it's more than just that, right?  Of course it is.   I got promoted - a big promotion.  I kicked up school to a new level that will allow me two concentrations in just 17 months.  I mastered driving stick (don't laugh, I'm pretty proud). And hey, there is more, but it's not blogworthy.  Or maybe it is, but I'm not going to tell you.

And then I turned 30 yesterday.  A year ago, I dreaded birthdays.  I dreaded doing or saying anything that put me in the limelight.  I was Band Girlfriend, and she didn't like the spotlight.  30 is a whole new beast.  This Solo Act waltzed herself into a birthday dinner, in a hot little outfit, happy to celebrate with the people who love her.  This Solo Act enjoyed the experience, the attention, the love of her family.  This Solo Act scored herself a date with someone sexy and smart.  A first date.  The last night of my 29th year.  My very first first date.

I feel like my 29th birthday was 29 years ago.  Perhaps it happened to me in another life, or maybe it's not my life at all.  I don't wish Band Girlfriend was someone else all those years ago, because it's foolish to wish away the life you had.  And yet, I never ever want to be her again.

It's been long.  And it's been strange.  But my what a trip this year has been.