Just a series of blurs like I never occurred

At the beginning of each of the last three years, I track my progress over the last decade. What makes sense now? What has remained embarrassingly the same?

This kind of introspection takes well documented records of what mattered to 18 year old me beyond the obvious matters of importance to all boys that age. A daunting task complicated by the lack of a journal resulting from the arrogance of a once unfailing memory and the dissolution of a letter writing culture. By that age our parents had ceased the video documentary attempts, and who has time to scrapbook honestly? I can, however, rely on the 13-year-old archive hidden within my first personal email account.

Going back a decade the first two years wasn't surprising. Of course nothing from when I was 16 or 17 had any real bearing on my future exploits. It was like reading the correspondence of a stranger. I'd even forgotten most of the other people in those conversations. Based on my language, it seemed I was even aware then how useless my activities would be in the long run. I was just biding my time until I could leave.

Notsomuch this year. I found a hinge. It was a period of time that swung me in a completely new direction. Funny how we don't forget with our best attempts and lose so much without trying.