Erstwhile

Every now and then, the past will barge in unannounced.

This is a universal truth because time and memory are two wild stallions that can rarely be tamed. If we could tame time, we would be able to travel through time to our hearts' content. And existence would be warped or even destroyed by now 2012 CE (or AD, if you prefer) or 900 A(other letter here).

If memory could truly be tamed, we would be able to recite all sorts of facts, figures, and dates for our exams. We would never be able to forget. Conversely, we would be able to forget anything and possibly everything at will, or particular memories.

Should they be tamed? Can they?

When the past barges in, I'll be doing something unrelated to the past. Unannounced, seemingly out of thin air (with rarely a warning). I dread these instances less and less now. Probably because while I don't welcome them, they bother me less and less. I know they're on their way and there isn't much I can do to stop them. Like I said, time and memory are generally wyld stallyns- I mean wild stallions, that cannot be tamed.

Each run-in with the past has a varying effect on me. Sometimes, it'll make me miserable for a few heartbeats, during which my head will be filled with stupid, irrational, idiotic, foolish thoughts and fantasies. Other times, it'll just piss me off to no end; I'll be mad at myself or at the circumstances that seemingly allowed the past to bludgeon me over the head with a large cricket bat (which is pretty pointless because in the end, I only have myself to blame). But no matter what effect it has on me, it (ultimately) leaves me with some sort of resolve (or goal): stop fucking up.

While things will happen spontaneously, without warning of any sort, my reaction can be controlled, or guided at the very least. To some extent. I can either let it get to me or I can shrug it off as best as I can and keep trudging forward as I am wont to do. And as I am obligated to do. I owe it to myself and to the future (an aspect of the wild time) to march on however painful each step may be.

Hmm.

Of course, the best advice I have ever practiced was "wing it." Excessive planning and plotting is a bad thing. Things have a strange way of working out. I like to think of pretzels as an analogy to times like these. They're twisted, have an odd form, are covered with strange things, and are generally something strange and maybe confusing, but they make sense (or will).