I don’t have a planner or an appointment book. I have a calendar on the wall that I write important events in. Stuff like upcoming birthdays, parties, vacations, dentist appointments, baseball games, and exciting shit like that. Time slogs on and eventually that calendar is obsolete. But for some reason I can’t throw it out. Maybe it’s because I don’t keep a diary and that calendar is the only proof that I did things and had a social life. Yeah, Facebook has a timeline but that shit is all electronic, and this calendar is physical evidence that I existed and did things. It’s my history. Fifty years from now I can pick up an old calendar and remember that I went to Taco Tuesday for my roommate’s birthday. I won’t remember what I ordered, or who went, or even which roommate it was, but I will know that I had fun that night and didn’t sit on my ass. And that’s worth reminiscing about.
Critically Rated at 13/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young