Incredibly, I Was Even Dumber at 22

journal entry

August 10, 1994
I was listening to _____________ on the way back from class. What a fucking song. I remember the first time I heard it - riding in Ol' Blue with Ryan on the way to Cherry Hill. He kept saying how much he loved ______, but I couldn't get enough of __________ - I don't think I heard any of the other songs on the album for about 6 months. I remember at the time not thinking it was as good as the record before it. That was a long time ago...but is four years really a long time? No, it's not; but I always like to paint such a dumb nostalgic picture you'd think I was on the goddam '27 Yankees. Why do I do this? Hell, next month we'll be having the 5th Annual GrannyFest; it seems like just last week we were clearing the other end of the farm for the first one. The older I get, the quicker it rolls by. Funny how years are so quick, but days are so long. Seems like just yesterday I was buying goddam football stickers in Mr. Futchko's class, but an eternity since this morning. This weekend I was looking at Lacy's grandfather. He's 80 years old - is he scared to go to sleep? Scared that the few remaining hours he has left will be eaten up by sleep? Christ, I'm 22 years old and I'm scared I won't wake up. I remember one time in 9th grade sitting in geometry class, and thinking that I had this security blanket of three years to keep myself warm in. Is that how I'm gonna live life - how will this feel when I get older and older? Like that blanket has been yanked away, and I'm out cold? I was also thinking about how I think I'm old, but how insignificant this part of my life will feel to me twenty years from now. Or I hope so, anyway.  I'm pushing, I'm bursting for something, but I have no idea what it is.