And we're back! After a week and a half basking in the glory of vacation, I'm at my desk and have been surprisingly productive. No fidgeting and no doodling. I even made it until about an hour ago before thinking into The Future in that non-productive, worry-inducing, crazy way that I do.
Where will I be in five years? How can I prepare? What do I want to do with my life? Am I good enough to do that? What if I never reach my potential?
The thing I've come to understand about New Years is that it's a period of transition that humans love to endow with mystical powers. There is no difference between January 1st and December 31st except a handful of letters and numbers, really; the first day of the new year is always the same 24 hours you have every day. It's really just for convenience sake that people make resolutions for the new year, but how often do people follow through?
I, for one, have never completed a New Year's resolution. I decided last year not to make them anymore. And this year I'm thrilled not to have to. I've been trying to lose weight and read more every day for the last six months, and some days I get closer to those vague goals than others. That's all you can do, really: take one day at a time.
I sometimes think I ought to get that tattooed to my right hand so whenever I pick up a pen to start scribbling three-, five-, and ten-year life plans with any kind of seriousness, I'll remember to breathe first.
Nietzsche said, "You must have confusion in your heart to give birth to stars." Someone else said something about how the mark of a true genius is to be able to hold two conflicting ideas in her head at the same time. These quotes comfort me: being confused is a natural, and even enviable, way to be. Those who are certain of the path before them are blind to the possibilities.
You can quote me on that.