Star Trek called them parallel universes. Terry Pratchett called them the trousers of time. It's still bizarre, knowing that in the next universe over, I've been dead for ten years as of tomorrow morning.
March 22, 2009, was pretty packed. Faced and defeated someone I respected, if not downright admired (I've never seen fire control like that before or since). The reaper shimmied closer to me than she ever has. Took care of business in ways that looked good on paper. And not long afterwards, I watched from a distance as a friend became a legend.
All that before lunch.
Sometimes, it's felt like I've been living in a bonus round ever since.
Sometimes, it's "This is what I've accomplished in the meantime? Really? Unfuck yourself, mate."
Given that there's still some younger men in similar uniforms tromping around the place, it's given a tempered lens to both history and current affairs.
On the whole, I'm grateful. I've not only been granted a longer life, but one I know about and can appreciate. And as long as I still got it, I'll keep making it a good one and enjoying it.
March 22, 2009, was pretty packed. Faced and defeated someone I respected, if not downright admired (I've never seen fire control like that before or since). The reaper shimmied closer to me than she ever has. Took care of business in ways that looked good on paper. And not long afterwards, I watched from a distance as a friend became a legend.
All that before lunch.
Sometimes, it's felt like I've been living in a bonus round ever since.
Sometimes, it's "This is what I've accomplished in the meantime? Really? Unfuck yourself, mate."
Given that there's still some younger men in similar uniforms tromping around the place, it's given a tempered lens to both history and current affairs.
On the whole, I'm grateful. I've not only been granted a longer life, but one I know about and can appreciate. And as long as I still got it, I'll keep making it a good one and enjoying it.
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