My tea’s gone cold
I’m wondering why I
Got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all
And even if I could it’d all be gray
but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It’s not so bad

Dido, Thank-You

November 28th, 2002. Thursday.

I have been cutting my own hair for years. Not that in itself that fact is shocking or revolutionary but it signifies a triumph over capitalism that to a very small degree puts a smile on my face every time I do it.

Not as bad as it has been, but still, I look like a pineapple when I get up in the morning, and if I actually have to take countermeasures against my own hair embarrassing me then it is time for the Clippers of Doom.

Much better, I can shower and leave the house without thinking twice about scaring small children in the street.

It is also the time of year that I make the pilgrimage up north to see my cousins, both of whom are now disgracefully old, since looking back at the 1998 Thanksgiving Pictures of them here I feel like they are completely different people. I guess everyone experiences this at some time, and I am sure I have too somewhere in my past, but now more than ever it seems strange that these kids, these little girls are suddenly independent women with emotions, opinions and a distinct personality separate from their past and their surroundings.

Time is flying. That is the only thought that occurs to me on a regular basis any more. Maybe the time of year as I know full well lends itself to reflection and the differences self-evident in our daily lives, but still, the focus seems unnervingly similar as days go by. This, one might suggest is the seed of the mid-life crisis, the dawning revelation that our youth is past and regardless of any attempts to recapture it, it remains as elusive as a cat who just threw your favourite pasta bowl off the top of the fridge and refuses to pay the piper.

Lightning. Not that I want to “name names” but last night at about 1am we were awoken to the crashing sound of a large ceramic bowl crashing onto the tiles of the kitchen floor. Followed quickly by the sound of four fat furry feet hitting the floor, scurrying for cover. He is a bad, bad cat.

Family. Whether it is human, feline or canine, it is the glue that holds us together. Regardless of what or who you call your own, it is that sense of belonging, the fraternity of sharing living quarters and relying on one another for support, entertainment and comfort that brings colour and flavour into our lives. It doesn’t matter that time flies by, it only matters how you choose to spend that time, and with whom you choose to share. In the end, you can’t get it back, so make sure that everything you do, past, present and future is in line with what you want your life to become. That way, no matter how long it takes, you will always be on your way to creating something magnificent.