Sunday, January 01, 2012

what

As usual, the new year snuck up on me like a thief in the night. 

I spent the last evening of 2011 talking to my childhood friends over dessert. Sat in the car and looked up at the sky through the sunroof. Had conversations about how we're growing up, our new and different responsibilities and challenges, the awkward situation of being simultaneously young and old, etc.. I kept quiet, mostly, because there wasn't much to add but resignation and introspection — that is not to say that these things are of little value. I am still young and still new to articulating these feelings of age accurately and precisely. At the same time, in equal measure, I was honestly perturbed by the time I'd lost in 2011. I would have done so many things differently. 

What I want to say is: I am not ready for this, this mountain of decisions, decisions about decisions, meta meta meta decisions... It isn't decision-making per se that I loathe, but making these decisions in a tangled web of information and misinformation, the plurality of opinions, doubt about the future and my aptitude, blah blah blah. Everything I had taken for-granted — academic interests, relationships, career preferences, cost of living, even my own priorities in life — seemed to undergo a seismic shift so gradual that its miniscule changes went undetected for over a year, only to spring a surprise in the silent spaces of contemplation with nary a warning nor apology. 

This is both a good thing and a bad thing. What is that thing Emerson said about experience? I'm too lazy to look it up now, Google Chrome search bar be damned. But I am certainly thankful for this year's experiences. I've felt stupid, brilliant, careless, patient, angry, depressed, hopeful, joyful, self-righteous, self-deprecating, humorless, loved, lonely, annoyed, confused, cruel, lost, and the complete list will span the rest of your screen, but I am thankful for all these experiences, all these emotions, and perhaps only in this can I say that I do not regret personhood and the lived experience of the mundane and the extraordinary. And I do like sharing this space in my life with you.

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