Life is short

I wonder what it is about our days that makes us remember them. Can you look back and say: "Oh yes-February 19, 2004. I remember it well, that's the day I had scrambled eggs for breakfast and had an Americano instead of my usual latte at Starbucks." Or: "Sure, I recall November 10, 2005. That's the day I had a presentation at the office and had that massive python tattooed across my back. It kinda' hurt."
Do most days just pass us by in a blur, they have no imprint on us, they don't make a difference? We register that the floor of the coffee shop needs a mopping, but it doesn't change our life. We have 10 voice mails, but they have nothing revolutionary to add. We pop in to blogs that make us smile, make us cry, make us cringe, but when we click that red X in the upper right-hand corner, it doesn't linger with us past that popping mouse click.
If we save up a host of these days, does it mean that our recollection will be a cumulative one-our interminable days become a single day in our memory (wake up, shower, brush teeth, dress, leave house, head to work, get coffee, work, head home, undress, watch TV, have dinner, go to bed.) Will we look back at our twenties and see this pattern? Will it mark our thirties? Is our forties about refining this pattern, getting the daily grind into perfection?
They say that on their death bed no one really wishes they worked more, but I think that's only because they haven't polled everyone. That, and do you really know you're punching the grand time clock at that moment? With my luck, just before I kick the bucket, I'll be telling a dirty joke or asking for another plate of mac and cheese. Hardly the romantic images we all have of tearfully clutching our loved ones and telling them what they meant to us.
How many of us wake up in the morning and grin, saying "THIS! This is the day I've been waiting for, I think. I'm sure of it. Today is here, and today could be the day." And how many of us head through that day and the most amazing thing that happens is someone hands us a red balloon animal. Maybe it occassionally works that way-maybe the chap that invented Hubba Bubba woke one morning and shouted "Today is my day! I'm going to grab my day by the balls and I'm going to make it strawberry flavored!"
Maybe not every day needs to be this way. Maybe our days should be ordinary just so we can enjoy the little patches of extraordinary. I lost my temper. I got offered a job by a manager I can't stand (so that'll be a no then.) Not a day likely to stick in my mind in the long term.
I'm not depressed or upset, in case this post is reading like that. I'm just feeling pretty random and wondering what my memories are going to be made of, because days are passing (as is my youth) and I want to know which days are the days I'm supposed to seize. I'm ok about a haze of nondescript memories of train tickets, Starbucks, minutes of meetings, and poached fish for dinner. Those memories aren't bad necessarily, I just want a bit of heads up on the days that have a say in changing my life. I can look back and see days that met those criteria, I know the ones that made everything change in the blink of an eye.
I just want some control over them.
And I want to wake up, punch the air, and say This is the day. Today is the day. I'm seizing the fucking moment and together we're going to make a memory that I'll remember forever.
It's not happening today.
But I've decided it will happen, so bear with me.
I'll be expecting to hear from you, too, on when your day is. You know, so I can punch the air with you. You show me yours and I'll show you mine and all that.