I like thinking about anniversaries, age and numbers. I get a little hung up on it, but I am so fascinated by the idea that time truly is the measurement of change.
Today, for instance, is two months until my 24th birthday. Today marks one year from the first time I woke up with health insurance that didn't belong to my parents. Today, rent is due. I wrote my tenth rent check. Six more weeks marks my one-year anniversary of packin' up and moving out.
I am continually fooled by time. For that, I'm grateful. I keep thinking I've learned all I need to know, and my experiences prove me wrong every single time. That's a life well-lived.
I need to sleep before I start rambling like some philosophy major. I wrote tonight for the sake of writing; I'll make a little more sense tomorrow, maybe. Cheers!
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