God is in the Details.

Regardless if you pray. And I know that I don’t. Or at least I haven’t for a while, before tonight. I’m not even sure if tonight counts as a prayer; it should probably be considered more a reckoning of events. The rane show last night was where drugs and religion meet back on the other side, as Ben Folds would say. It inspired a long talk with someone I haven’t spoken with in six months, to the day. Tonight it felt like maybe, just maybe, he heard me. I even let him say “I told you so.”

I asked Jesse once if he had ever looked in the mirror and and genuinely not recongnized himself. He had no idea what I was talking about. Well, I had another one of those moments today. I looked in the mirror and saw eighteen years of totally incoherent emotion and irrational decisions. It’s one of those odd situations where I recognize all the pieces but I can’t quite grasp what the finished puzzle is suppossed to look like. I’ve lost the neat looking-box with the picture on front. I suppose that’s the fun of it though…constructing, deconstructing and reconstructing until you figure it out. I’ve never been much good at puzzles.

I thought it was entertaining how I spent most of today in a haze. Barnes and Noble is even more fun when you’re completely burnt out. I’ve spent the first semester of college convincing myself that smoking, drinking and messing around are my ways of living, being open minded and “learning”, and all part of that cliche “college experience.” I’ve become a lot more liberal about most things and a lot more conservative about others. It took me ’til today to realize that all the things I’ve been doing are simply things kids do when the real world scares them so much that they refuse to become adults. People think I’m so strong, but the real strength was in the person I was, not the person I am now. All this partying isn’t being youthful, it’s being immature. But that’s okay, because honestly the real world scares the shit out of me, and I’m glad for any chance to be immature for the first time in seven years. I’ve become everything I swore I’d never be due to wider eyes and a smaller heart.

It’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last…

Perhaps this year will be the year I read as much as I want to, or start doing yoga, or study Buddhism like I’ve been meaning to, or really stop procrastinating about the things that are important to me. Perhaps this year will be the year I fall in love for real. But why should things change now? I suppose eighteen is a good number for a new beginning. Maybe I’ll even change my mind on marriage like I have about everything else I once held dear.

Or maybe not. Happy Birthday to me, and here’s to what lies ahead.