Life in the Middle

Life in the middle.  I don’t feel it.  Well, I take that back… sometimes I feel it.   When I get up... the stiffness of the night takes a bit more of the morning to work out than it once had.

I’m seeing more of my forehead and less of my hair… and the hair I do see is  slightly peppered with salt.


I tend to think about life way more… which is saying a lot considering I do that all the time anyway… I think about my family more… and see that priorities, proclivities, intentions, inclinations and perspectives have shifted to such a degree that… I’m just a different person.  I’ve always thought about tomorrow, it’s just now there’s less tomorrow to think about.

I’ve lived long enough to see patterns and cycles complete and come back again.  I’ve lived long enough to see that I am now the generation younger generations look to.  Living is now attached to a responsibility I never had before.  I really don’t want that responsibility, but as my mother always said, “Tough shit... you have to deal with it.”

As a kid, I remember grown-ups being so… grown up.  I see that they  were as old then as I am now.  Why don’t I act like them?  I don’t feel  it at all.

I tend to look at the sky and clouds more.  I try and jam more  feeling and thoughts into my brain.  Extra memories for the days I can’t make as many.  I worry.  I obsess.  The problem with constantly thinking about tomorrow is that you neglect today.   I’m working on that too.


The notion that we are all “works in progress” is more apparent to me than it ever was.  We’re not perfect out of the box.

The tone of the strip is changing to reflect this part of the life  cycle.  It wasn’t from design, it’s just organic.  I can’t help it… it goes where it goes.  It’d be foolish to even try and write from the perspective of the 26-year-old who began this journey.  It wouldn’t work. It is what it is:  a little stiffer, more mature with a dash of
experience and bitterness.


I welcome you to the dawning (and drawing) of Frank’s middle age.