Sleepy Eyes, a family tradition 

What the Who-Heck, a Pulled Back?

Entering into the dusk of my 20s I have finally gone through one of the phenomenal events that ungracefully makes you realize that old age is here.

I spent this last weekend moving out of my apartment into a cozy little house that K. sublet to me for the summer. Under the pretense of getting an advance degree, I had accumulated a huge quantity of books that had to be moved with an 'infinity' of car trips. The last box of books ( I think that it is always like that) was the heaviest. Without setting down the box, I decided I could open the double doors to the office building with one leg, while I balanced my (aging) self and 30 lbs books. Lo! I tore one of those nameless and hidden back muscles that you only become aware of through extreme soreness or bitter pain.

The pain was two-fold, of course. Not only did I quickly fall to the ground as I hurt, I came to realize that the my 'perfect chiseled Greek statue-like physique' was all veneer with no sturdy structure. Old age comes in spasms and jolts of pain, as if to remind us the path ahead will only get rougher and more perilous.