I kicked off 2010 like millions of others around the globe: with good company, pyrotechnic fireworks, and a seemingly attainable list of resolutions. It’s been said that sharing your new year’s resolutions publicly helps you solidify your commitment to them. (I suppose that’s the reason why marriage vows are recited in front of priests and hundreds of guests). Well, hear ye hear ye, readers of OfKnee’s blog, I declare thy resolutions:
- Thou shall not peek into the past (especially for an unnecessarily prolonged period of time)
- Become a part of Cosmopolitan magazine
- Register 100 people as Bone Marrow Donors
From the nebulous to the concrete, and in no specific order, these three are it. The progress thus far: I’m 1/5 towards the way of reaching my goal of enlisting people through bone marrow drives. I have a package ready to be shipped to Hearst Corporation’s office this week. But as for the one remaining elusive resolution on the list, let’s just say, I haven’t made a dent. I blame pictures and diaries/blogs for harboring these memories, because they’re like one way streets – there’s really no way out.
While shifting through some of the clutter in my room, I came across my old journals and couldn’t help but open them up. I ran my fingers through the pages as if written in Braille, felt each word come alive, and traveled back in time to that one way street. I had written about things I had forgotten feeling – like the regret of not spending more time with my Grandfather after he passed away. Or like the anxious arrival of a beloved from a trip that left me restless. Or like the frustration at my Dad for losing the roll of pictures from my prom night (yes, this was during the pre-digital age). I couldn't possibly encapsulate 26 years of tears, jokes, and mistakes into a neatly binded notebook... but who needs that when the author is standing before my very eyes?
So why do we do it? Why do we rummage through old albums, save ticket stubs, and attempt to capture fleeting moments that can’t be relived? For the same reason we’re not born with eyes in the back of our heads, and with our feet facing backwards. So here’s to a year of marching forward without looking back. Here's to turning to a blank page, because there is so much yet to be written.
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