When focus keeps me away

“It's a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself.” – Lester Burnham, American Beauty

It's a bit of a rare opportunity for me to be able to spend some time clacking away at my tiny keyboard and be able to drop some text to TheInterweb™.

I'm going to try and not sound disgruntled, but I make no promises.

Summer is winding down (although it feels like it ended weeks ago, if it had even started at all), it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that I'll be turning 39 soon. Part of me wants to be bitter about it, but at the same time, I'm not entirely sure I really care. This isn't being cynical, or a denial about aging. This also isn't the mantra of only being as old as you feel. While I can pinpoint certain possibilities that it is not, its still difficult for me to pinpoint exactly what it actually is. It could be that, despite my being of middle age, and the acknowledgement that there are no certainties about life span, I know that I still have at least a couple of tricks left. I still have the capability to surprise myself (not always a good thing, but generally leans to toward the positive).

A weak example, but applicable. On Saturday I made and committed to the action of a slight change of style. Since I departed from my pervious employer, I have been wearing nothing but street clothes, day in and day out. Hoodies, jeans, runners, and pop-culture T-Shirts. While observers might consider me upping my game to remove the hoodie and runners, and add a blazer and matching kicks insignificant, I personally consider it to be a bit of a big deal. Yes, the pop-culture Ts and the jeans are still intact, but part of that is because I do not have the means to change my wardrobe overnight. Plus, abandoning my sizeable T-Shirt collection would hurt my soul a little bit. I am not changing as a person. It's still the same engine, its just a bit of a cosmetic change.

So does this matter? This was an unprompted change. No one was forcing me, nor encouraging me. However, this small change alters the perception of me by others, and more importantly, the perception I have of myself. This is likely the first time I've really made a style change that wasn't forced or strongly encouraged. It means I have the capability to change more than just my physical location every couple of years. In a way, this could act as a bit of a catalyst. While I am hardly a mirror image, this introduction to change is rather Lester Burnham.

I’m b-a-a-a-a-ck. (I think I’ve said that before)

The signs are found all around us.

The signs are found all around us.

Sometimes you need to walk away for a while, ya know?  I’d like to say that my time away from the medium allowed me to put things into perspective but, hell, who would I be kidding?  All I know is that when I stop putting my thoughts down I feel like I stop becoming a person.  Further, my ability to write ends up going to shit.

I feel as though AIMLC needs some explanation, although it does seem pretty self explanatory. It dawned on my a couple of months ago that I was approaching the age of 37.  37 is the half life for Canadian males born in 1977.  I quickly learned that the mid-life crisis is more than just a cliché or marketing tool to sell Porches to balding or greying men.  It’s akin to being the prototypical late 80’s or early 90’s stereotypical blonde.  Being a blonde wasn’t so much a hair colour, but more an attitude.    With that in mind, why not embrace the fact that my time is running short, and I have a limited amount of years left in me to get shit done.  Fuck.  I refuse to roll over and play apathetic.  And this?  This is a document of it.  Now, queue the inspiration quote:

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.

-Mark Twain