As the year draws to a close I'm trying to think of something profound to say, or, at the very least, something really really funny. Sadly, I have neither. Every New Year's Eve I find myself saying, "Damn, the year went by fast." That can be good or bad depending on how you look at it.
It's weird. I'm looking at my journal and I made only 19 entries this year compared to 27 last year and 29 the year before. Long ago when I was an English Literature major I read a poem, the name of which escapes me now. The speaker was a writer who chronicled every moment of his life not for vanity's sake, but in hopes that he might better understand himself. For him, writing was a means of freezing a small part of himself in time, and later, when he was a few months more mature, he would come back and analyze his writings.
The problem was that he overdid it and this realization didn't come to him until the winter of his life. When he finally set the last piece of the puzzle he realized that life is best enjoyed by living, and that his quest to understand himself only masked the reality that he was living in the past. My resolutions last year can be summed up by a quote: May you live all the days of your life.
With the exception of one, I honored all of my resolutions. I still don't know how to make Chinese food that tastes like the stuff from the carryouts. That may not be such a bad thing.
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