Mosquitos

I love spring and almost every­thing that it has to offer, but there is one thing about spring that I sim­ply abhor: mos­qui­tos. There was once a time when the lit­tle bug­gers didn’t bother me, though I don’t know if that was truly the case or is sim­ply the way that I remem­ber it. Life is a funny thing when you think about all the things that you have done and that at one time it was the present. No, life’s not funny, time is. I was orig­i­nally going to write about the sea­sons and mos­qui­tos but I think that I’d rather wax philo­soph­i­cal about time, so I’m going to.

About the only thing that any of us can say about time is that it passes. Though that’s really all we can say, we don’t need to say it in so few words. The present is some­thing that is ever present but can never be caught. The moment you think that you’ve laid hold of the present, it’s already the past. We know that there once was a present, but that’s only through mem­ory and if you really try to delve down in your own head some­times you can almost relive mem­o­ries as though they were just hap­pen­ing. The prob­lem is that the almost bit is the key bit; mem­ory is like an ana­log record­ing – tech­ni­cally is one – and every copy is worse than the last. That is all that mem­o­ries are, an imper­fect copy of what was once the present. The dual­ity of the present, in that it never is but always has been and in that it always is and always shall be, is an odd dual­ity, but if one con­sid­ers how many odd dual­i­ties there are in all of real­ity (I wanted to use the words nature, life, the uni­verse, exis­tence and a few oth­ers here, but real­is­ti­cally have to choose one so I went with being but then real­ized that real­ity was a bet­ter one and changed it after I fin­ished this par­en­thet­i­cal expla­na­tion [I also changed the tense of the sec­ond word of the greater par­en­thet­i­cal from want to wanted because that tense seemed more appro­pri­ate once I had fin­ished]). I appol­o­gize if you found the par­en­thet­i­cal of the pre­vi­ous sen­tence to be cum­ber­some, but, when I get myself think­ing about time, I can get recur­sive like that. In the case of most dual­i­ties it is pos­si­ble to see things from either one of the two sides but rarely to see both sides at the same time (ex. those opti­cal illu­sions that have an old woman and a young woman, IHTFP [MIT stu­dents and alum will under­stand], the radi­a­tion of our sun, etc.). All of my life I have seen time from the side that says that the present has always passed and is in mem­ory; I won­der if it is pos­si­ble to see time from the other side of the duality.

There is a part of me that would like to know what it is to see the present as some­thing that always is, if it was even for just a brief moment. There is another part of me, a stonger part of me, that wor­ries that if I ever expe­ri­enced such a moment it would be so spec­tac­u­lar that I would spend the rest of my life seek­ing to relive it. That last sen­tence made me won­der some­thing per­haps a lit­tle more fright­en­ing, if one man­aged to see the present as some­thing that always is, it might not be pos­si­ble to return to see­ing the present as some­thing that’s always passed or it might be too glo­ri­ous to ever return. Of course, it’s prob­a­bly bet­ter not to be fright­ened by the idea, but it’s prob­a­bly good not to search for it either.

So, in short, time’s funny and I have a real dis­tate for mosquitos.

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