The Wrong Side of Time (Or Not)

I’ve always felt that I’ve mostly been on the wrong side of time. Either I’m too young or too old, too early (rarely) or a tad too late (mostly). My timing is horrible, yet it isn’t my timing. This is one of those things that just is. I don’t always miss the train, as it were. There are instances when everything falls into place just so and life blossoms and is colorful. And when this happens, it feels like the universe was preparing you for this moment all along (whatever rocks you, go for it.) And when this happens, it seems that the timing was never wrong to begin with. We humans have a way of rationalizing everything that happens to us. Really, when you think about it, either something was bound to happen (through hard and smart work and preparation and good luck) or it wasn’t (despite hard and smart work and preparation and due to bad luck.) Often, there is no meaning to be squeezed out of these occurrences. And maybe that’s the meaning. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

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