I don’t usually pause for reflection. I often pine for days gone by, but that’s more of a feeling that, somehow, things were simpler back then (whenever back then happens to be at that moment). But as far as reflecting on all that has happened in a specific period of time goes, I have to admit I am really bad at it. I don’t think it’s because I’m not grateful or happy or proud to have lived the things I have, it’s more that once an event is over, the spot that was reserved for it in my mind is cleared for the next new and shiny event. The older I get, the more the days run into one another until entire years have gone by. I find myself losing track of the specific details of my life — I can’t even remember how I rang in 2010 — and I’m the one who is supposed to have the good memory. And even though my memory is quickly becoming a black hole, I still feel about the same, except maybe with a few more crows perched upon the corners of my eyes. Getting old is weird.
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So it’s with much painstaking deliberation that I evaluate the events of my 2010. I want to relive the highs and lows in writing so I don’t have to commit them my increasingly untrustworthy memory. And then, when I remind those with whom I shared these moments of the finer points of the last year of the first decade of the second millennium (or is it the first year of the second decade of the second millennium?), they won’t say, “Are you sure?” I can just point to this blog post and say, “Yes, I’m sure. That’s exactly how it happened.” Continue reading
