When Matt turned thirty, I remember taking pause to consider the likelihood that when I arrived myself, I would be all set. That I would just be waiting for thrity five, when I could, in theory, become prezident. It seemed bleak to me, to be at a point where the surprises and the anxiety would have faded long before. I thought there would be nothing but more of the same for forever and beyond.
Clearly, I'm not holding out much hope for that being the way it all goes down two years from now. The thought of not knowing is exciting, if for no other reason than allowing myself to not realize the growing gap between my respective physical and mental ages.
I've learned a lot in the past year. I've done a lot in the past year. It is easy to look back to this time last year, and put the checks in the boxes (not those checks in those boxes, nadine), and see that nothing is as it was. I have successfully re-worked my entire existance, but somehow managed to hang on to the good parts, albeit at times only with the assistance of gravity.
My family is convinced I have lost my mind. My mother gets wind of a pilot friend, or a weekday when I am not reachable via even my cell, or dinner and a drink with someone whose identity I will not divulge, and she worries that what I am doing now is intentionally breaking my life. And my marriage. The life part is absolutely correct, but the marriage? Come on. That was *so* last October.
Test everything.
That's the flowery way I have chosen to refer to "intentionally breaking my life". I think more folks should do it. I think everyone should toss every stupid little piece of their arrived life up in the air, and catch only the parts they are certain that they can not live without. I have six.
My Matt. My Girls. My peace. My options. My Devin. My Slou.
And I've already caught those pieces. One, namely Matt, I have several times come very close to dropping, and have dropped, even, but his placement on that little list of things I can not live without makes me always catch it after the first bounce. And it does bounce. Frequently. And everytime, we find ourselves eventually back to okay. Back to the friends that can't live without each other, but also can not live with each other. It's a dance with honesty, and courage, and a promise to always be there for each other. Even when one of us chooses to date one of the others' good friends.
This year has taught me the finality of actions, and how poor or in-explainable ones can reverberate uncontrollably longer than is necessary. It has taught me how stubborn some are in their beliefs, and how I have to be moreso in my own to combat them. It has taught me how ridiculous one's beliefs can be. It has taught me how easy it is for people to place more stock in others than in themselves. It has taught me to, especially when it comes to people, follow my instincts.
Still a quarter burried in carnage, at least it has been buldozed off of the sidewalk. Bring it on, twenty nine. I'll fight you, too. I'll kick your ass. I'll make you buy me a drink.
