Good grief. I can't believe it's June 25th. Already. (And admitting that makes me feel like an old geezer.) There's certainly nothing uniquely profound about wondering where the time has gone, but just because the wondering isn't unique doesn't mean it isn't profound.

When it comes down to it, all life is is time. We perform various tasks and transform the time we're given into other things: money, friendships, families, contentment, despair, college degrees, books, paintings, music, video games... hundreds of people concentrate their energies on converting their time into pop-up ads, and hundreds of others trade their minutes in for hits on a bong, I mean, blog.

Some people are more efficient at it than others. We all get the exact same amount of time each day (although a disparate number of days, to be sure), but two people of the same age often vary widely in their happiness. One man converts his time into joy much more efficiently than another. Perhaps he invests his time into something that will cost him happiness now but yield him greater happiness in the future. The other may think, why bother? He knows the future may never come, so why should he gamble that it will by putting off what happiness is available in the present? Which man is more cautious, more conservative? The man who thinks he'll have endless tomorrows to be happy, and plans for them, or the man who knows he is "a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes"?

I hate hearing someone wish their time away. "I wish I was 16/18/21!" "I wish I was done with school!" "I wish it was Friday!" "I wish it was summer!" Don't worry, it will be, soon enough. How much time would you wish away? Would you fast-forward past Monday through Friday? September through May? 0 through 16?

Every night I agonize before I fall asleep, wishing that the day would never end.



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