New Year...
Scrybe
Now that the beginning of the year is over, does anyone remember it? Seems like the whole deal is just another fad we all observe on a passing basis. Exciting and important while it's happening, but as soon as it's over, who cares? All the anticipation of a fresh start and new goals cumulate to an anticlimax of fading away to nothing. Just like kids behaving only when the parents are around, but as soon as the 'rents disappear, deviance resumes. Remind you of your New Year's Resolutions?
Do you remember the feeling of New Year's Eve? Perhaps you thought you were about to happen upon something new, ground you hadn't covered before. But you've found all that's present is what's at your back. And after all, that's all there ever is, isn't it? Now that the calendar's paper pages have recycled back to January XXXX, can you look to your back and say that the previous year was any fuller than the blank boxes that now precede you? Perhaps this isn't a question many people ask themselves. Most are content to simply deal with the hangover they wake up to on a daily basis and to hell with the rest. Of course, the ones that question the pounding in their heads are the ones that can't remember drinking to begin with.
With the new year, taxes are soon due, accounts must be reconciled, and resolutions are presumed to have been made. All for what? Still staring at that blank box marked Jan 1st and wondering if the one that came before it was any different? Still contemplating the rows of black lined cubes that are staring back like accusatory jail cells waiting for you? The only difference being that these cells confine you only when they're empty. The accusations don't really start until those cells are at your back, left unmarked. The blankness of the new year holds promise of potentially unlimited possibilities, but on the same token, the emptiness left behind compels contemplation. And reconciliation.
Not ready to face the new year? Don't feel like taking up the pen and making your mark? That's fine. It'll come on it's own. You can just sit there, in your corner, letting the buzz of the party surround you, but ultimately remain unaffected by you. The current of life will always make its mad grab at your heels, but you can dig in and refuse to go along. Perhaps this is easier, but in the wake of the wave there will be nothing but empty boxes left in your year. Where does that leave you? In the purgatory of contemplation. Forced to try to recollect when the last time you filled one of those boxes was. This might make you realize how many of those jail cells you've filled. You know which ones those are. The days spent 9-6 counting beans in your solitary confinement chair. Cut off from the rest of the world by the walls of duty, responsibility, and progress. Led on by that proverbial carrot called a paycheck. And who holds the stick that's tied to the carrot? Well, it's anyone but you.
What else fills the void of those blank cells gone by? Days where you simply didn't get out of bed? Days you wish you hadn't gotten out of bed? Well, the latter really does leave a mark, either by you or on you. Surely those empty cells are only those that toll the number of days left unfulfilled, the ones where you didn't leave your mark. Where you felt, or thought, or were scared into the idea that it was better to go along to get along. Sure, who doesn't have those days? It's easier to simply reconcile yourself to being accountable to others and behaving in a manner that pleases them. But in the end, those blank boxes really pin you down because they hold you accountable to yourself. In the end, those empty boxes tally up to the number of days subtracted from the 365 you are allotted each and every year. You think a year of your life has gone by, but how many days were actually lived? 200? 135? Any?
There must be some. Several of those blank squares must be attributed to the wake of days spent living. Parties that ran so hard and late into the night it was a miracle you woke up afterwards at all. The kind where the shots rolled down your throat, and hopefully not back up onto your friend's carpet. Where you spent half an hour talking up a storm trying to keep the attention of a single person and then realizing you've got a crowd of 5 laughing with you, hopefully not at you. Dancing, only it looks more like a chimpanzee in the throws of an orgasm. And then trying to act cool after almost diving head first into the island in the kitchen because you forgot the laws of gravity apply to you. And through it all you just flat out enjoyed every bare-assed minute of it because you finally let the neck tie fly along with your concept of dignity. Who the hell needs dignity to have a good time?
Of course the bad times count for as much of a marked squared as do the good. Friendships re-evaluated, trust betrayed, and alliances challenged. Did you take the time to let those close to you really know how much they mean in your life? If so, you can check off that square. That's one cell not holding you back. Did you take the time to let loose those who really don't give a shit, or give nothing but shit, in your life? Well, those people will figure it out on their own, right? Let's just skip those squares, shall we?
How about the squares spent building the rest of your life? Those days that will be forever never lived down, for better or worse. Times when you really put your foot down and made a decision to move forward, or backward as the case may be. The point isn't whether you were right or wrong, but that something was done that will last the rest of your calendars to come. Even when bridges are burned, they can still serve to help the way ahead. If the fire is bright enough, your path can be that much clearer. After the inferno expends to grey, it can still serve as a lesson learned if you don't forget to look back at the ash from time to time. The point is, even in the case of a burned bridge, you took a decision into your own hands and didn't give a damn about the opinions of the rest. This is how your mark is left. In the end, hopefully there's more sunlight than there is gray.
Those days spent boxed in, either by the confines of the office or the expectations of others, correlate directly with the empty cells. In this way, the wake behind you is unavoidable. What's said and done is behind, whether you marked your calendar or just left it blank. And what's coming up? What about that? Is it a bunch of empty square jail cells just waiting for you? Or are you squared away and ready to leave your mark on the next 365 days of your life?
The only way to free yourself from the confines to come is to remember what filled the squares last year and plan to fill more of them this year.