It’s been drizzling a bit here and there for the most part of the day. I’m packing for a weekend trip to Virginia. I’m going with my brother and a few of his friends to celebrate his birthday. He’s turning 29. I’m shocked honestly, because 29 is pretty much 30, and 30 is like super-adult-let-me-start-having-kids-and-eating-vegetables age. He’ll always be my big bro before he’s anything else, adult included. Him turning 29 led me to think about myself and my friends. After a few minutes of mildly deep thoughts, I pretty much concluded that we’re all ugly and we’re all as old as hell. It may not seem like it, but it sure does feel like it at times. Especially now that I’ve began to find enjoyment in mowing the lawn.
So I’m watching Sixteen Candles. Sixteen Candles is a 1984 film directed by the great John Hughes. The premise of the whole movie is that Samantha, the main character played by Molly Ringwald, is turning 16, but her family forgot about her birthday due to her older sister’s wedding. As I’m watching, I keep thinking to myself how my 16th birthday feels so long ago. Many things have changed since then. I can’t even remember what I did on that day, honestly. I’m not sure if this is a product of my poor memory or if this is a reflection of how fast time moves. Not only that, but as the movie progresses, I’m thinking to myself how all of these actors most likely are parents, if not grandparents by now. Obvious, but it’s like damn, the '80s weren’t that long ago in the grand scheme of things. Time is something that intrigues me, and it intrigues me often.
An integral part of being human is being curious. We’re curious by nature, some of us naughty.
Anyways, we’re inquisitive about our surroundings and the details surrounding our existence. So, being the human that I am, I’ve always wondered why it always feels that time is passing me by at a tremendous speed. Such a tremendous speed, that the grace period needed for nostalgia to kick in makes life seem so mundane and so unappreciable at times. The only reasonable explanation that I’ve come across, and by reasonable I mean one that makes sense to me, came to me during New Year’s Eve of 2015.
It was fairly cold that night, but the city was alive. Charlotte Police had closed down North Tryon to accommodate for NYE traditions. People were out celebrating amidst all the commotion and all their responsibilities. Live music accommodated hopeful resolutions that filled the Charlotte night. All of this ruckus radiated throughout different parts of the city, all the way to Plaza Midwood. Common Market to be exact. I was with Lance as we were interested to see what they had going on. Upon our arrival, it wasn’t as crazy as we had expected it to be. There were people inside conversing, there were smokers lounging by the heat lamps outside, but it wasn’t anything really out of the ordinary for such a momentous occasion as New Year’s was.
I got something to drink and we sat outside by a heat lamp discussing plans. After about a minute or so, an older gentleman comes up to us and asks if he could smoke by the heat lamp we were sitting next to. Long story short, we get to talking. I always have this thing where I ask older people how they knew that their partners were “the one.” This was no different. He quickly begins dropping many gems, and as I’m trying to catch them all, he mentions how his marriage, so far, has went by quick now that he was reflecting on it. I responded by saying that time in general moves so fast. I begin describing to him about this strange phenomenon that goes on in my life and how it might be all psychological. I tell him, it always seems that the older I get, the faster time seems to move.
You know what this guy tells me?! It blows my mind for two reasons. One, I’ve driven myself crazy trying to explain why this happens, only to come to the conclusion that acceptance is the only answer to this curiosity. Two, he says something so simple. He tells me the reason I feel this way, and it’s common for people to feel this way, is because one year isn’t what it used to be for me. Let me explain. One year to a seven-year-old is much more than one year to a 21-year-old. These years pass by quicker because I’ve lived more. 1/7 is greater than 1/21 by a substantial amount. It’s all mathematical, it all made sense. It all added up (literally). Standing there with my mind blown, he finished his cigarette and wished us a safe and happy New Year’s.
Thinking to myself, if I’m being consistent with this pattern of thought, then time will only get quicker and quicker, leaving more room for regret. Nobody wants to regret more than they already do, and I am no exception. Upon this epiphany, I texted this girl who went to NC State but was from Charlotte. We had met in a chemistry class with Dr. Polar during the summer before. Turns out, she was in town at a party. To spare you the details, she eventually left and we met downtown. We kissed at exactly 12 AM, which was my first New Year’s kiss. Afterwards, we went to Amelie’s to talk about life and the direction that we both were going to take it. Life was a blur back then, much like it is now. In the middle of all my curiosity, all my time, and all my acceptance that I have to offer, my only wish is that I don’t forget to remember, word to Sixteen Candles. Now where’s the cake?
