Fifty

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Don’t think about the past.

Don’t think about the future.

Be in the moment.

Whooey I tell you.

I am always evaluating my past (mostly WHAT WAS I THINKING?)  and worrying about the future: of the planet, my aging, my kids and the world they will get.

Why didn’t I document my life in photos more?  There is so much I cannot remember. I talk to old friends, who were with me somewhere, and they remind me of things I don’t remember happening.  In 1995 or 1996 I was at the Del Coronado Hotel beach, eating a sandwich from the deli there, and watching Harrier jets land.  Now I live 26 miles from there, I have two sons, and I’m no longer married to their dad, but to someone else.  I dimly remember calling my parents, who then lived in Maine, and telling them both how wonderful it was to be eating shrimp Fettucine Alfredo in my room.

I have no photos of these days. Not even of the trade show booth we must have used here. I don’t even remember what booth it was?

Photos would help, I think. I look at ones of me in my twenties and I was adorable. I didn’t know it, or think so. My self image isn’t really any better today, and I am sure that at 70, I will look at photos of me now and do the same thing.

I’ve been in therapy on and off my whole life and I still don’t feel I made progress… I have self help books that, if thrown into the fireplace, I could heat my house for a year.

So, in an effort to remember I am going to post here, weird things from my insignificant life, just to see what on earth happened a year ago, exactly.

Wouldn’t it be cool to that kind of memory? Those that have it, say it can be a curse.  From over here, I just think, “Sign me up!.”

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