It’s been the longest 30 years, yet I’m standing here wondering where the heck the time has gone. I just google searched how many days are in 30 years and then followed it up by asking how many hours. If you haven’t done this, I would not recommend it. It’s not pretty. The fact that much of my memory consists of the times I spent on the playground at recess and the times that were my most challenging is cool, but damn, what about the times when I was working on getting to that big challenge of mine. Or all the decisions that led to me being in the situation right now? Granted, I know that literally, every decision has brought me to where I am right now, but the major ones. You know those simple changes in routines. The days where I decided to make a left turn instead of a right to get home and found out about this or that ultimately resulted in me being at work on a day that motivated me to start a better career. Or how about the time when I was in elementary school and realized that being like the rest of the kids was not going to help get my parents to turn off the fight mode and start taking it easy. I want to remember those. I want them to be the first thing I think about when I wake up. Maybe that’s not in the cards; maybe it’s just something I have to talk about with them to get a true idea of what I was like from a different perspective. I don’t know the answer to this one, but I do know that I’m lucky to be able to go back to the writing I’ve posted on this site for years.

Why do I just read the titles and think about where I went wrong? And why does it always have to be something wrong?