I’ve never really been a big sucker for New Years resolutions. I’ve always regarded them with a sort of jaded wariness. New Years’ resolutions seem to have radioactive half-lives, faded to burnished partial promises within days.
But with the quietly momentous year that 2017 has been for me, I think it’s apt that for once, I truly, vividly celebrate the end of the year and welcome the new one.
In 2017 I
tumbled through changes faster than I’d ever expected. participated in my first march, clutching my homemade sign and yelling, demanding to be written into history for upholding the values I held dear. got into a dream college that I never had dared to hope for. celebrated the end of high school properly, earrings glistening and smiles beaming through the vermillion spring youth of college declarations; prom; high school graduation. moved states. missed the scorching, humid summers of the Midwest and my spirit city with the ache of losing a place that had shaped me; my heart; curved around my tongue with its strong Chicago accent. learned to make a new home of the west coast; fell into In-n-Out and Birkenstocks and beautiful craggy beaches. began college. read beautiful books. met wonderful new friends and relished old ones. left and returned to writing. started a new writing project that scared me, that I challenged me to my core, that I almost gave up on time and time again, only to return to more inspired and more enamored. realized that love fails not always to oblivion but to make way for new, richer love.
In 2018 I vow to be more patient. to be kinder to myself as the scars from years ago fade completely. to understand what I want; to embrace what makes myself and not reject it. to reach out to others and surround myself with the people that dazzle me and challenge me and whom I feel at home with. to appreciate the ones I love. to finish this damn first draft, because it’s been four years since I’ve finished the first draft of a new project. to be patient. to be patient. to be patient (and follow the Junot Diaz quote, heavily paraphrased, “people tell you to hurry but art tells you to be patient. always listen to the art”). to learn how to do my brows. and to learn; infinitely, uninhibited.
this blog is now five years old. wow. I was thirteen, five years ago. I was truly a baby when this whole endeavor started, wasn’t I?
and finally, because this seems to be a thing now: a song?