An unanticipated wealth of reflection has proliferated here, on this blog that, even after all this time, I still quite like the look of; and I surprisingly find that I do not shy away from its tribulations in hindsight. I feel I have been, on the whole, remarkably accepting and positive about the misfortunes that turned my life into something so foreign, something so unremittingly complicated, just over five years ago. The aegis of this virtual space has almost always been subliminal. It may have lacked a clear focus, but I found it supportive in an immediate sense; and the format of an open record keeps you, if not exactly honest, then at least obliquely pertinent. I’m happy to have a record of the time.

I’m also happy to have returned here to append a modest epilogue to this half hazard scrapbook; this diary; this whatever. There was undoubtedly much I could have written down between 2010 and 2013 that had to do with the ongoing struggle to maintain my mental and physical health—the missteps, and the successes—but the cyclical nature of dealing with bipolar disorder, the sustained note of managing HIV in this very capable and successful age of care, the regular semesters of university, these all may have simply produced an interminable spiral of already voiced concerns. Doubts and stresses have a way of proliferating amongst themselves when you allow them close proximity. I never wanted to find myself incapable of moving forward.

I do wish now that I would have written about Italy. I don’t know now why I didn’t. My computer was functional while I was there, and I had an Internet connection at my residence; but although my time in that country was about books, and at times some very inebriated brains, it had very little to do with bad luck. Rather, it was something of the opposite: my time there was a high point of a most fortunate experience. Dark chocolate gelato during a heat wave in Venice, and chilled Prosecco in the sweltering courtyards of Siena, both examples of distilled moments of privilege and an almost unbelievable array of beauty, interpellated with reading and writing about the novel, changing spaces, and hope. I suppose there wasn’t too much to say besides “wow,” and “thank you” to the forces at large in the universe.

I can count the weeks to the end of my undergraduate career. I will know where I am headed for graduate school in two or three months. I think this chapter of challenges is closing, and I have a record of successes to take with me beyond. It’s been an exhausting but fruitful journey. My next project will be different; I think I have bigger fish to fry than personal dilemmas. I have words to superimpose, and to trace, onto a different sort of record, and I intend to do it in my right mind.



~ by A Mundi on January 24, 2014.

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