I almost feel bad for this blog. Sometimes, it seems to me to be like an old girlfriend: for the first few years you tell them everything about everything, and then there is a long drawn-out period where you are convinced that you still being with them is more than ample generosity on your part. Some other times, it reminds me of aged grandparents who you never think of except sometimes when you are sad.
I was 19 when I started this blog, I am 33 now. But when I think of the days around when I first started writing here, they seem just a short while ago. In between were long periods of depression and long periods of spiritual satisfaction, long periods of stasis and of growth, long periods of turbulence and of boredom. And yet, I am still essentially the same person, closer now to my 19 year old self, than my 23 or 28 year old selves, by a long shot.
Much has changed, of course. Recently, I got married. I am still figuring out how to be a good husband. Some times, in the middle of an animated exchange, I find that my eyes well up. That is as much a matter of respite for me as it is a matter of concern. Respite, because I realize I am still vulnerable to human emotions, something I had become unsure of for many years now. Concern, because I must not fall into the kind of emotion-driven and intellect-devoid patterns of many years ago that I had to then meticulously rid myself of over several years.
More recently, in a large-scale downsizing of the small firm I worked at, I was eliminated. So these days, I am married and I spend my time at this apartment overlooking the Hudson river that I had rented in more economically friendly times.
Tomorrow, I move out of this apartment, back to good old Plainsboro that I had called home for four years prior to coming here. My brother now has an apartment there, and I will move in with him, while my wife and I do the 'long-distance' thing with her job in another city some hours away. Her folks don't know that I am out of work now, so I'll still see her, like a busy man, only on the weekends.
Day after tomorrow, who knows where we'll be.
I was 19 when I started this blog, I am 33 now. But when I think of the days around when I first started writing here, they seem just a short while ago. In between were long periods of depression and long periods of spiritual satisfaction, long periods of stasis and of growth, long periods of turbulence and of boredom. And yet, I am still essentially the same person, closer now to my 19 year old self, than my 23 or 28 year old selves, by a long shot.
Much has changed, of course. Recently, I got married. I am still figuring out how to be a good husband. Some times, in the middle of an animated exchange, I find that my eyes well up. That is as much a matter of respite for me as it is a matter of concern. Respite, because I realize I am still vulnerable to human emotions, something I had become unsure of for many years now. Concern, because I must not fall into the kind of emotion-driven and intellect-devoid patterns of many years ago that I had to then meticulously rid myself of over several years.
More recently, in a large-scale downsizing of the small firm I worked at, I was eliminated. So these days, I am married and I spend my time at this apartment overlooking the Hudson river that I had rented in more economically friendly times.
Tomorrow, I move out of this apartment, back to good old Plainsboro that I had called home for four years prior to coming here. My brother now has an apartment there, and I will move in with him, while my wife and I do the 'long-distance' thing with her job in another city some hours away. Her folks don't know that I am out of work now, so I'll still see her, like a busy man, only on the weekends.
Day after tomorrow, who knows where we'll be.
Sigh, long distance romance is so fairytale like in my head. Write letters to each other please.
ReplyDeleteAll the best, with the job search. In no time you shall be found cribbing about work. Until then, make the most of the free time.