Living life is like driving a car that
can't reverse. The farther you go, the more things you see that you'll never
see again. Hindsight and reminiscence invade the recesses of our minds, growing
up and up like weeds to pull us down. But going back is impossible. Even the
weeds know that what’s been done cannot be undone. Still, the truth is hard to
swallow.
I’m speaking about TV shows. When I finish
watching a good series, my first desire is to erase my memory and watch it anew
for the first time. But my hopes are short-lived. It cannot be done, my mind so reminds me. Instead, I'm transported
into a pit of hopelessness, occupied by one thought: I have to wait
thirty weeks for season two?
Torture, I tell myself,
crossing day one off my calendar. Time couldn’t go slower if it, like me, had a
mind to try. I re-cap the red marker when another truth intervenes. “You know,
if you spent less time watching TV, you’d have less weight clogging your mind. The
only weeds are the memories in which you’re doing something other than that
which you should be doing. Make better use of your time so that one day, when
your journey ends, you’ll step out of your car, you’ll look back and you’ll
see, in amongst the weeds, an entire orchard abounding with fr---”
Thirty weeks? What am I going to do for
thirty weeks?
