The year is 2014 and the day is one. I’ve spent the last few days looking back and looking forward, and I think I’ve got a handle on what I’m planning this year–but all that can wait.
I was perusing Facebook last night (so productive, I know) and reading people’s New Year resolutions, and I just couldn’t help myself: I was shaking my head in disappointment. I gave up on “resolutions” years ago when I realized the word itself implies fixing what’s broken as opposed to reaching new levels of personal growth, but even overlooking that, I found people’s plans for 2014 lack the kind of focus that’s obtainable.
Yes, yes, I’m happy you “want to be the best you can be and have a great year,” but what the hell does that mean?
Today felt sideways. I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept (that’s nothing new, not anything untrue, but it’s the mindset I rose from: that someplace I was going to, on the edge of the horizon, still a blur but something, and I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t know how far until I got there–dreamstate, waking, that’s where I was). I got dressed. Left on time. Got to class.
For the first time all semester, programming didn’t come easily. Although I got my unicorns to whinny-whinny and NEIGH, how I got there was like a bridge I’d forgotten I’d crossed over. I could see the code, could emulate and imitate and remarkably recreate, but I could not just create. I could not start from scratch and get there. A piece was missing.
After class, I wanted to speak with my superior for a few moments, felt obligated to help clean up before I got anywhere else, but knew I needed something else. So I went where I had never gone before, a place I had only ever seen from the edge. My secret place.