How Do You Move in a World of Fog?

You have to do it running but you do everything that they ask you to
'cause you don’t mind seeing yourself in a picture
as long as you look faraway, as long as you look removed
showered and blue-blazered, fill yourself with quarters
showered and blue-blazered, fill yourself with quarters

You get mistaken for strangers by your own friends
when you pass them at night under the silvery, silvery citibank lights
arm in arm in arm and eyes and eyes glazing under
oh you wouldn’t want an angel watching over
surprise, surprise they wouldn’t wannna watch
another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults

The National - Mistaken for Strangers

It seems to be a running theme in my life lately. I've been listening to the above CD a lot this week. Boxer is filled with pretty dead-on musings on the journey to adulthood. It took me a few spins to grasp the full impact of the album, but that's the way the best albums are.

I turned 36 last week. It strikes me that the struggle to realize my own adulthood should have been over years ago, yet here I am. I don't feel 36. I imagine that in many ways I don't act 36. hiccup told me that our oldest daughter was convinced that I would really like to have a skateboard for my birthday. It's sweet that she still thinks I would enjoy something like that, though I suppose my shredding days are long gone.

hiccup recently convinced me to grow back my goatee after four years of a smooth chin. I cannot believe how gray my beard is now, though given the salt and pepper on top of my head I know it shouldn't surprise me. When I look in the mirror, I'm forced to accept the fact that my appearance now contradicts my feelings and actions.

For some inexplicable reason, my mp3 player has been feeding this fire by spitting out one sweetly nostalgic song after another as I sit here, making me acutely aware of just how many years have passed between the young person I still see myself as and the note-quite-so-young person I actually am. It occurred to me yesterday that hiccup and I have been hanging out together for nearly half of our lives now. Almost eighteen years have passed, and I have a hard time wrapping my mind around that.

No, it's not that old, but a discrepancy in my perception definitely exists. Given family history of the proclivity toward sharply decreased lifespan, I'm acutely aware that my time here may not be as long as some expect. Morbid? Not really. I'm trying to keep things in perspective, really.

So what do we do? How are we to define our adulthood? How are we going to approach middle age? Old age? Will we make it that far? I certainly hope so.

Discovering my Past

The other night, hiccup asked me to scan a photograph for C. Something about a school project, I don't know. I decided that since I had the scanner out, I might as well scan a few other pictures we had laying about. hiccup and I have both been interested in photography for quite some time, so we have thousands of photos boxed up here and there. I felt it was time to digitize some of the better and more significant ones.

As I was digging through these photos, I happened on many from our Dark Ages (roughly 2001-2003). It occurred to me that we have purposely scuttled most of these, because neither of us particularly likes to be reminded of that period of our lives. I can accept that. But, I also dug through and found some stuff that I did want to have around, scanned a few jpgs, and a newspaper article written about my brother when he broke his high school's 1600 meter run record. I may even post that article here, as it's a pretty decent read (especially considering the usually well below par writing in my hometown's pitiful rag of a paper). That article, at least, was nice to see again.

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This afternoon, we're loading up the family for a few days' vacation, camping near Moab, Utah. I'm looking forward to it. I REALLY need a break. See you all on the flipside.