Last Friday was, of course, 11/11/11, so it was the last time in a century that the date can be made up of entirely one digit. That’s pretty a pretty neat thought, and as someone who loves any sort of pattern or regularity, especially the numerical kind, I spent quite a bit of time thinking it over.
Yes, it was very cool. Yes, I got a bit of a kick out of how neat and pretty the date looked. But in the end, it was just a day. Some important things happened: it was Remembrance day. Some unimportant things happened: it rained, I did math homework. So really, it was just another day, one that’s already melding itself into the sludge of “just days” that make up life.
When I realized that such an interesting date had passed me by I was initially rather annoyed with myself. I should have done something! I should have made it special. Once I’d gotten the guilt out of my system thought, I had a far more fascinating thought: Why should there be any day that I don’t try to make special? After all, it may not seem to be the case, but in the big picture of a human life, everyday is like a pixel. Some are more striking than others, but even an unimportant one that’s missing affects the image.
So I’m wondering: do you try to live each day as if it were truly special? How do/would you go about such a life?
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