We hear it all the time. It comes at us in the form of sing-songy quotes and cliched sentiments, most of which we became familiar with at an astonishingly young age. And even though this idea is pushed and pressed and permanently emblazoned into our subconscious, most 20-somethings, well, act like 20-somethings, and ignore the sage advice bestowed upon us.
C'mon, say them with me: "life's too short," "time sure does fly," "its seems like only yesterday," and my personal, yet morbid favorite, "those were the best years of my life," which, of course, implies that the speaker no longer has anything left to live for, and thus his or her remaining days are just a slow and torturous waiting game until the final resting place. I told you it was morbid, and, well, I'm not really into sugar coating. These small suggestions and statements that hint
at life's short timeline fly from baby-boomers' mouths to Generation Ys' ears every single day, and yet most of us block it out; a skill set perfected in today's world of the classic know-it-all. We fully grasp the notion that
life is short, we understand that we won't live forever, but, frankly, today and
right now we feel invincible against this idea of mortality.
So here is the good news, well the not-so-bad news... our elders are telling us these things before it is too late. Those friends and family that pass out this reluctantly listened to advice are not trying to make us face our impermanence, they are urging us to live for today. I have been warned, in fact, it feels as if sometimes I am being
threatened into carpe diem, so why do we blatantly snub this Latin oldie-but-goody? In fact, if Latin was not dead itself, it would probably roll its eyes at us, shake us and tell us to carpe diem the hell out of life.
But, for some reason, living in the "now" just feels impossible. Everyone seems to have a constant countdown ticking away in their mind. With each stroke of the second hand they are brought closer to their amazing Caribbean vacation or their impending nuptials that will take place on the beach, at sunset. However, what about all those days in between? Why must we forget about life's little pleasures and throw ourselves full-throttle into what will happen days, weeks or even months ahead? I hate to sound like one of those aging told-you-soers, but it just feels to me that as we age time takes on a warp speed, and if we are constantly pining for the future we are going to miss, well at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, life.
I'm not saying that we can not get excited for what the future holds. Actually, it would be downright frightening if a collective group of friends was not thrilled about their their best friend's wedding or if a mom- and dad-to-be were not over-the-moon excited about their eventual arrival. Of course, I am not insinuating that these things should not be looked forward to with immense anticipation, I'm merely suggesting that the time in between not be used as a waiting room to get you to the bigger and better. I'm hinting at the fact that no one should wish for September in May simply because fall television will be in full-swing, and we will finally delve further into the terror plot of Homeland. I'm proposing that the perpetual countdown stops, because believe me, the oh-so-looked-forward-to event will come and go, and those months you wished would fly by are not coming back.
The reality is that day-to-day existence is not always going to be fireworks and hysterical laughter among friends. In fact, most days seem to mesh together in one long strand of wake up-go to work-come home-go to sleep. Finding the exhilaration and inspiration can sometimes be difficult, but we have to try. If not, we will one day wake up and look at a reflection in the mirror that we can not believe is our own.
So, can I do it? Can I take my own advice and force the countdown to a halt? While I sit here in my window-less cubicle it seems like a serious impossibility. Thoughts of my impending Florida vacation keep creeping to the forefront and a slight part of me wants to fast forward to November. But I know I should not be forcing a fast forward until a rewind option is discovered. So, here goes nothing...
3...2...1... carpe diem.
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