Yes friends, its that day of the year again. Late December, the most important birthday of the year. No uncertainty or fictitiousness about this one, unfortunately.
I'll be spending my day playing games, and making sure to not be heading uptown on an empty stomach. The night will undoubtedly be spent drinking, and fielding questions about if/when/why/why not I'm going back to school/work; questions that I've been hearing all to often lately. I suppose if I'd just make up my mind it would make things a lot easier. Perhaps I'll just go with lying to people for the night. In any case, I'm sure the questions will be met with abrupt responses, so if you're reading this ahead of meeting me at the bar tonight, you've been warned. If you're not reading it till after you've talked to me tonight, you know why I was that way.
And here's hoping I'm actually functional enough tomorrow to go out and finish grabbing a few little gifts for x-mas so I don't have to go out at all this weekend in the madness.
Cheers.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but youre older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the english way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought Id something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
Its good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.
Time - Pink Floyd