It’s entirely possible that there isn’t an appropriate soundtrack for each and every day. That’s the way it would seem this morning. Hours of exploration yielded nothing except another sovietwave thing, and it’s really good for certain, but certainly has little to do with any mood or reason today. Or maybe it does and the reason will find it and match. It doesn’t matter.
I get caught up in this thing every year about this time, where it seems urgent that I put together some kind of capsule summary for the recently deceased year. Why chain oneself to a calendar invented thousands of years ago by some random Italian or Greek? Why trap oneself in someone else’s timeline and struggle against all reason to find a succinct meaning, and a beginning and end? Why is December 31st significant? Does anyone keep a resolution anyway? Does anyone know anyone who has kept a resolution? Why questions?
We know any random day when you wake up can be your New Year’s Day if you want it to be so. It doesn’t seem like a very good idea to tie yourself to the failure of a single date and the collapse of billions of resolutions.
Yet… I’ve sat by myself year after year to write these… conclusions… when year after year nothing has really begun or concluded that created a lasting impact. Where am I with that this year?
Where am I at? I’m at a point where the last 12 months have brought up a lot of questions that there doesn’t seem to be answers to yet. Nothing that went on in 2021 has wrapped up yet so it feels silly to write about it. It would be a pretense of having answers… of knowing.
I know nothing.
Don’t get that twisted. No, I don’t know anything but I’ve let go of having to know. None of this is on me, so there is zero pressure to know.
Anyway… a lengthier essay may still happen, but not this morning. The pressure is of habit, and not of performance. Nobody expects me to have answers. I don’t expect me to have answers. It’s all good.