Time

Have I mentioned that I hate time? Most days it feels like an enemy. It attacks on two fronts, putting MORE distance between me and the good old days and LESS distance between me and whatever trial is coming up next.

I was complaining about this to my mom a few days ago. Then at my friend's wedding on Saturday, the pastor talked about time (I was the maid of honor so I was standing right next to him).

He talked about embracing time as a gift. (Yeah right, I thought. If only it came with a receipt.) He talked about how it's a natural rhythm meant for our benefit, and that we can abuse time with either extreme busyness or procrastination. And of course that we should make time for God and (if applicable) our spouse.

It got me thinking that my fight against time is not only futile, it's pretty selfish. The desire to go back to the best years of my life (cue Bryan Adams) is all about a time *I* felt good, connected, whatever. It shuts me off from other people and being part of their lives.

Not to mention it's pretty stupid. Sure there are trials ahead--I hate thinking about saying goodbye when I leave for England. But I wouldn't be going if I didn't think there were good things waiting too.

On earth we can only live in the present. But I think the feeling that time goes by too fast, that we can't get enough out of each moment, is different. To me, it's pretty good evidence the soul was made for somewhere else.

The Bard, Brides, and BMWs

On Friday night I drug my grandma, two cousins, and cousin #1's girlfriend to the free performance of Shakespeare's Richard III in Redmond. It's definitely one of his most confusing plays, so I was really pleased they enjoyed it. And seeing it outside surrounded by families with picnic baskets is truer to what drama was like in Shakespeare's day. (Who needs a stuffy theater and textbooks?)

Saturday we hosted my dear friend's bridal shower, and afterwards I attended my first minor league baseball game at Cheney Stadium in Tacoma. It was fun sitting closer to the action (at Mariner's games we're usually in the nosebleeds) and spending time with friends. And let's face it -- the difference in game quality isn't THAT drastic.

This afternoon I spent with my parents looking at BMWs/convertibles. My dad hasn't bought a car in 21 years (that's right, ever since I was born), and right now (for a "toy") he's considering a convertible as an alternative to the motorcycle he's wanted for awhile. The argument being a convertible gives you more options and keeps you out of the rain.

Speaking of motorcycles, I'm reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. Sometimes I only make it through a few pages before I have to stop and digest. He manages to balance the philosophical abstractions (i.e. rethinking the nature of reality) with the grit of a cross country motorcycle trip. Both of them are intriguing enough to keep me going.

The summer is going by too fast, but after this 100+ degree weather, England is sounding pretty darn good.