Two whole months. Yet, somehow it feels like it's been six. Is that good or bad?
When I got engaged--not even out of college yet--this one guy Jeremy said, "Wow. Marriage is, like, forever. That's so much longer than even three years." My marriage outlasted Jeremy's longest relationship by two years, and Jeremy outlasted my marriage by only five. Time is weird. Two months can seem like forever, but five years, ten years ago, feels like a few weeks at a low budget summer camp (fun moments connected by generally crappy conditions).
There's a great story out in the world, called My Pretty Pony. It's an art object / book designed by Barbara Krueger and written by Stephen King. [Note: If anyone out there wants to buy me a copy, I would totally be your best friend.] It is about the elastic nature of time: how in grade school, at the start of summer, each day lasts forever--summer will be forever, but by the end of August, the days are rushing past in short, stumpy hours. I feel trapped in a time elasticity model right now. The time ahead of me stretches interminably while the days fall past me uncatchable as dandelion fluffs.
I am waiting for my Flash Fiction Round Two assignment, due any second. Once I have it, I will brainstorm some plots, then pass out.
Ugh: Drama. A racetrack. A laser pointer.