Hopefully I'm not the only person that feels like they've wasted time in their life on occasion (the title is a line from "Time Is On My Side"). As I write it has been almost two and a half months since I left America. That is to say a week or two past the mid-way mark in my adventures which means that I am unfortunately on the other side of the hill slowly sliding back into reality/America.
Perhaps procrastination is indicative of our own perception of mortality. There's always tomorrow. How, amidst the hubbub of one's day, is one supposed to comprehend the magnitude of life and the frailty with which one clings to it? I don't feel I've wasted time, or "missed" anything here but sitting on the back half of my time abroad an unusual sense of urgency consumes me. My mind has been racing trying to figure out what to see and how to utilize the rest of my time in the best way possible but it's all futile. There's always something more. There will always be an unturned stone.
For lack of a better expression it's like having that "oh shit" moment in college when the reality of the test you put off to go knock around with your friends comes crashing down around you. The inconspicuous moments that never seemed important. They're the ones you remember. They're the ones that matter. Perhaps my GPA and my father would disagree with me but it's the truth. Clichés are cliché for a reason.
The never ending dream of man is to catch hold of the ephemeral moments of bliss as they happen. So often it is only in reflection that one comes to the realization of what each moment meant. With my return to America looming on the horizon the realization has been thrust upon me. I know it doesn't matter much what I see or don't see before I leave. The purpose of the trip was not what but who. The memories I retain will be those that seemed to pass before me unnoticed--My idle days with a beautiful girl.
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