Faster than a rollercoaster
11/18/25 11:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alasanonSeriously though, the last three months of this year vanished and left very little trace.
———
Well.
I do this periodically, just because one may as well pay attention to small anniversaries as well as (and sometimes more often than) larger ones.
Twenty-three years of *expansive gesture* all of this (as of tomorrow).
Actually, I suppose this is a somewhat important one — this is the equal anniversary, the one that is the same as the age I was when I started. After this, this blog (?) becomes older than the young adult who put fingers to keyboard in 2002, and it starts becoming less than half my current age.
I’ve celebrated (?) other anniversaries like this before. End of work anniversaries, the anniversary of my leaving home, half lives of relationships and friendships and turns of years. Leaving home was a big one. Turning thirty-six and knowing that after that point, it would no longer be half my life was so strange and so oddly miraculous. That was ten years ago and I honestly stopped tracking (mostly) after that. I’ll probably think about it again at forty-eight. They do feel like turning points, even the ones that are fairly innocuous.
Oh, you think, oh, after this, I get bigger and you stay the same. After this, something about you recedes, in a way.
But these sorts of remembrances come fewer and further between the longer you go on. I hope, desperately, that I will see ninety-two and find something, some moment from this year, to commemorate. It seems unlikely, but I hope anyway. Maybe Eve, maybe it’ll be that. Or my first trip to Sendai, maybe over time that will take on symbolism and a vital importance in my life that I didn’t necessarily feel at the time.
I never would have expected that I would be watching a new season of Ranma 1/2 now, when I first watched it in 1994. That was thirty years ago (last year)! But despite the crucial role it played in my future (my jobs, my hobbies, my obsessions), I don’t know exactly when I watched it first, only the roughest of estimates based on who I was with when I watched it and what else I was doing.
I could probably locate the sketchbook I was using, perhaps. It would certainly show a marker of that time, and possibly a date.
Anyway, I’ve digressed again, gotten caught in a little wormhole of memory.
I’m happy I’ve kept doing this, kept returning to this space to mutter quietly to myself. I’m happy I know exactly when and what and how so many things in my life occurred, or that I’ve at least left myself (and only myself) a sufficient trail of breadcrumbs that I can work it out.
I’m happy I have records of the things I’ve gained and lost and that I know that above all, I am still very much myself.
———
Well.
I do this periodically, just because one may as well pay attention to small anniversaries as well as (and sometimes more often than) larger ones.
Twenty-three years of *expansive gesture* all of this (as of tomorrow).
Actually, I suppose this is a somewhat important one — this is the equal anniversary, the one that is the same as the age I was when I started. After this, this blog (?) becomes older than the young adult who put fingers to keyboard in 2002, and it starts becoming less than half my current age.
I’ve celebrated (?) other anniversaries like this before. End of work anniversaries, the anniversary of my leaving home, half lives of relationships and friendships and turns of years. Leaving home was a big one. Turning thirty-six and knowing that after that point, it would no longer be half my life was so strange and so oddly miraculous. That was ten years ago and I honestly stopped tracking (mostly) after that. I’ll probably think about it again at forty-eight. They do feel like turning points, even the ones that are fairly innocuous.
Oh, you think, oh, after this, I get bigger and you stay the same. After this, something about you recedes, in a way.
But these sorts of remembrances come fewer and further between the longer you go on. I hope, desperately, that I will see ninety-two and find something, some moment from this year, to commemorate. It seems unlikely, but I hope anyway. Maybe Eve, maybe it’ll be that. Or my first trip to Sendai, maybe over time that will take on symbolism and a vital importance in my life that I didn’t necessarily feel at the time.
I never would have expected that I would be watching a new season of Ranma 1/2 now, when I first watched it in 1994. That was thirty years ago (last year)! But despite the crucial role it played in my future (my jobs, my hobbies, my obsessions), I don’t know exactly when I watched it first, only the roughest of estimates based on who I was with when I watched it and what else I was doing.
I could probably locate the sketchbook I was using, perhaps. It would certainly show a marker of that time, and possibly a date.
Anyway, I’ve digressed again, gotten caught in a little wormhole of memory.
I’m happy I’ve kept doing this, kept returning to this space to mutter quietly to myself. I’m happy I know exactly when and what and how so many things in my life occurred, or that I’ve at least left myself (and only myself) a sufficient trail of breadcrumbs that I can work it out.
I’m happy I have records of the things I’ve gained and lost and that I know that above all, I am still very much myself.
