I feel like life is passing me by. Every few days something marks a milestone, a birthday, an anniversary, or a new year. And each year I decide, this new year is going to be the most productive of the my life. I am going to life my life to the fullest. And somehow, I catch myself, a few days later, thinking, did I? Am I? Can I?
What would living my life to the fullest imply?
I do not know.
All I know is, life is passing me by.
A lot can happen in a day, but years fly by unnoticed. The first couple of peers from my PhD class are preparing to graduate soon. Home stretch for me too now.
Years, unsure how many, unnoticed.
I need a construct, a labor of love. Something that grows with time, that I do not have to force but comes out naturally, yet little by little, day by day, year by year, it builds, monotonically increasing.
So that every time I look back and wonder how far I have come, if at all, I have a reassuring monument tethering me to hope.
What can one man do?
What would living my life to the fullest imply?
I do not know.
All I know is, life is passing me by.
A lot can happen in a day, but years fly by unnoticed. The first couple of peers from my PhD class are preparing to graduate soon. Home stretch for me too now.
Years, unsure how many, unnoticed.
I need a construct, a labor of love. Something that grows with time, that I do not have to force but comes out naturally, yet little by little, day by day, year by year, it builds, monotonically increasing.
So that every time I look back and wonder how far I have come, if at all, I have a reassuring monument tethering me to hope.
What can one man do?
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