...I'd say it'd be well worth your time to pick up Rebecca St. James' latest CD, entitled the same as this blog entry. I could say more, but she's already articulated most of it.

As I told Lady K last night (I got to talk to Lady K on YIM! I feel so important! *squeee* ), "God Help Me," the first track on said album, is my newest favorite song. It talks of a early-life crisis in the singer's own life. And I can identify with her, as I'm about 4, maybe 5 months younger than she: as I'm careening towards 30, I have to wonder what has become of the front end of "the summer of my lifetime": what, if any, impact I have made, and why I am still nagged with the thought that I've just spun my wheels thus far.

27½ years old gives you a great sense of mortality, especially in the face of the deaths of 30 someodd college students.

I don't know anyone that goes to school in Blacksburg. I'm 5 years removed from my own undergraduate studies. Just like Columbine in 1999, my sophomore year of college, it's weird and nothing more. Getting older makes you jaded and walls you up, too.

I dunno, this entry was as much for my own reflection as it is for any of your benefit. Take it as you will.

-KIE