It's my birthday again.
I'm flat broke again.
I'm starting to become a person of tradition, I guess. A revolving door of activities from one year to the next. I'm packing up my things once more, with the hope that this time, this place, these people...
... Somehow life changes you, right?
Is all this stuff really mine? How did I keep all of this?
I think my parents were part squirrel. I think they raised me to store my nuts in the holes around all of the trees I've called home. It's a bigger tree this time, but it's still me that lives in it, and nothing will change me so very much. It's a slow progression, and despite what I would like to think, these last 25 years were not wasted on turning me into something that I will never become. I am, undoubtedly, going to be what I was always becoming. Who I was made to be.
I seriously need to have a garage sale.
The worst part of my identity is how elusive it has been. I think that's why I collect so many things that I don't really need. Or, maybe I do need them. Do I? I don't really know.
I've been collecting things over the last 5 years that I've lived on my own. "Just in case." Just in case I need them just in case I don't know anyone in the future that I can borrow one from, should the need arise, just in case I suddenly decide that my entire life is going to be about something that up until now I only did every once in a while. It's like I can't get rid of anything until I know my entire life story.
This year.
I'm going to figure you out, Stephen. I'm going to search for God, and find you in the process. This year marks the end of me floating by on top of a mess of decisions I never made, "just in case." This is the beginning of becoming.
Welcome 2010. I'm ready for you.
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