I'm sitting here right now, just after four o'clock pm. My television is running unimportant noises and a series of images behind me. My dog is asleep on the floor, possibly clueless to my existence right now. I have a bottle of Lipton tea before me, that's sitting infront of an answering machine that is blinking "12" for the messages I've heard, but just not picked the phone up from (or picked up after I heard the person speaking), with some that have been on the machine for days. I'm saying these things in order to record what I may or may not remember the next time I look back and read this. It struck me today: The speed of time. Is it fast or slow? I mean- We use time, in some ways, to record speed. And so, in recording time, we use our minds. It is not time that flies, but the mind that forgets things and remembers things, and gets slapped in the face by the speed of time, when we suddenly remember that the baby is now graduating highschool or that the first job suddenly became retirement, that the new first piece of artwork ever is now at the bottom of the stack of pieces that didn't quite make it to the first artshow. I got my first computer five years ago, and at the time Internet Chatting was big with all the hip kids (or the kids I thought were hip anyway). I met this girl on the internet from New York. We had nothing in common; I liked Blink 182 and she was obsessed with Eminem. But we were good "eFriends" that even planned on meeting up someday. Being the nerd-kid I was, I even told my closest friend about her. But we started arguing a lot months later, and she "blocked me" (If this were TBS, I would tell you it's safe to laugh a little). And after all ties were cut, we stopped talking, and at the time this was very depressing for me, because no matter how many miles away we were from one another, I had liked this girl, as a close friend, a lot. Yesterday, the Magical, Godlike electronic force known as The Myspace allowed us the opportunity to reunite. She searched for me, and sent me a message saying she thought she knew me. I checked her page, and I saw no Eminem pictures. I checked her friends and saw punk or rock bands (I can't remember which), and even Dane Cook and PETA. It was not very characteristic of her, but I played along anyway, since her name was the same as the girl I knew, and she was from New York. She responded and it turned out that it was her. Time flew, I thought. Her face and her style changed so gorgeously. And I can't get over how much in her personal life has evolved from the five years since I first talked to her. And it's moved on from that to the fact that time may or may not go by fast, but everything can change so quickly, not even necessarily beyond the reaches of the mind. I made a huge step (which remains unspoken for now) toward the future yesterday, and I later recounted the past (the story I just told), which has also fused to bring me another addition of thought for my life, as I travel forth.