Hardly blog material, but hopefully any sort of update will make me post more shortly.
It will all come out soon, but I have caused so much pain at the close of 2009. 2010 will be better for everyone, if only because I hope to suck the poison out of my own selfish deeds and bring whatever I can to help those I hurt and get back to being myself— a more altruistic self.
Which is the upswing: I feel more like myself than I ever have. Strange, yes? I have such conflicting ideas about what constitutes the “self.” On the one hand, there are infinite fleeting selves, all of which perish as soon as they are born and which cannot be returned to those which are born and die subsequently. They comprise and dissipate in constant flux.
On the other hand, I have always told myself that there is a core in each of us, which binds us like a collective consciousness and which cannot be shaken, beneath the waves that try to sway us. We rely upon this core with the sense of camaraderie and understanding that we are not unique; we can survive anything because everyone is surviving. We are all beneath the waves.
On the third hand, we all want to believe that, with an unshakable core, which keeps us moving forward, such a core affirms that we are unique, sentient individuals. Which is it? Ultimately, I let my perception of the whole thing remain vague and unformed. It’s a beautiful illusion, and it’s better that way.
I have let the end of this year serve as a gestation period for “a better version of me.” I will be better in 2010 with my mind and body and vow to give more of myself and make the changes I’ve been going through work for others as well as for me. Now that I know where I’ll be, geographically speaking, for the next few years, I feel like my life is taking shape in front of me. Maybe the self follows the situation. So confusing. Either way, I finally feel like I know where I live, what I love, what I want. It’s been so long since I felt that way. I'm no longer stretched so thin. What a surprise and a gift. And a trap: I cannot let this selfish sense of satisfaction, which takes up so much mindspace (even in spite of my efforts to be productive) keep me from giving to people any more than it already has. Christmas time this year became all about me and I was ashamed at how little I reached out to people this season. Spring will be better.
I know what I have to do: I must clean my room. This has always been at the foundation of reclaiming my life because the state of my living space is acutely reflective of my mental state. I have tried to live, as much as I can manage, like a minimalist over the past 18 months (though recognize that a record player, computer, and iPod hardly qualify me), but recently have collected so much stuff without regard to where it ends up, what its function is in my life, or where I intend to keep it. It is such a manifestation of my spirit, but I’ll be doing some early spring cleaning. I remember reading that a living and working space that does not fulfill its purpose of storing us and creating beautity is really a just a cemetary for dead ideas. I will not live or work in a cemetary.
I made certain to purge my life of so much "stuff" when struggling with decisions regarding my living situation and law school this past year. I painted and gutted my bedroom knowing that the experience would be cathartic and expedite change in my life. I didn’t move or go to law school, but I think settling myself further into where I was affirmed what I really wanted. or didn't want.
Now I’ll be going back to school. I'll be living (really living) in Boston. I cannot wait. I am promising myself that I will travel this summer. I have not been responsible enough with my plans or money recently to organize a trip, but I can foresee how much I will need one by summer. I will be outside as much as possible. I will extend myself beyond work and minimal community service and insular writing projects. That has been my life this year: subsistence. I know it’s changing now because I’m looking around and WTF.
My life is unrecognizable now from what it was a year ago. I feel I’ve lived 12 years in 12 months. My brain is working differently. I can feel it. I am happy. I am exhausted, but hopeful. I will be good.
It’s hard to write here and not simply be either a complete narcissist or a reactionary sigh of hot air.
And that’s when I stop.