I didn’t write last night because I wrote earlier in the morning. I couldn’t decide on anything to write and the topics weren’t appealing. On top of that, I spent, and this is a little embarrassing, six hours setting up a new social media website, connecting it to Twitter and Facebook, then unlinking Twitter from Facebook so as not to create a black hole of status updates. I forgot to eat because I was so focused. I posted one photo.
At the time it was fun and engaging, but this morning when I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to write it didn’t seem like time well spent. I had actually set my alarm for 5:30 a.m., but my brain decided it was Christmas morning.
I’ve been sitting here wide awake for what feels like three days but has only been about an hour. Thankfully I have coffee and the Palladia HD channel, which for those that don’t know is what MTV was before the dark times, before game shows and “reality” TV. It’s the only channel I’ve watched for about six months now, just music and concerts from some of the greatest bands to ever be filmed. The downside is I have to sit through the occasional Justin Bieber video.
I kid about the kid. He’s catchy, he’s popular, the girls love him. I respect that. Yet, I have to chuckle when I hear him singing about love.
What does he know? He’s just a kid. I’m twice his age…and then some. I remember 15-16 and how everything was so damned important. I remember that feeling of having that first love and every time after that. I have journals from back then about what I was thinking and the girls I liked. I read them now and I don’t remember writing them. I barely recognize the handwriting. Clearly I’m not the guy I was 18 or 19 years ago.
I wrote similar things back then to what he sings about now. Glad I didn’t show them to anyone. I’ve learned a lot since then. I’ve even loved a few more times. Nothing beats that hormonal out-of-your-right-mind first love, though. Maybe that’s why we never forget that first one.
I laugh at the kid who doesn’t know anything singing his heart out about love only because I was that kid at 15. Now I’m the kid at 34 writing his heart out about imaginary people having real love. Time is meaningless, love is forever.
It makes me a hopeless romantic, but I hope to get that first love feeling again. I’ll be happy as long as she reminds me to get off the computer and have some dinner at a reasonable hour.