agentofoblivion

So its a new year.

And at the end of the second day, I almost wish it wasnt.

As I look back at the year gone by I can only wonder if I really lived it, if it all really happened and in some respects how I survived it. But most of all I have to wonder how it has landed me here. I could spend the rest of my night or even my week theorizing, but at the end it really would not matter and the demands of life at the moment are far too straining on me for me to be able to occupy myself with the past.

Life is how it is, not how it was.

So here I am at the beginning of this year, sitting and typing while my beautiful daughter is in the next room playing video games, having a cryptic conversation with my girlfriend via text messaging that has my stomach in knots and wondering how I have somehow found the strength to not run away when things get bad like I usually do, and feeling apprehensive about the consequences of not fleeing. I have a ton of work to finish tonight, a set of reviews that a peer did not complete that are due tomorrow, which I have no ambition to even start, let alone finish. I have a novel sitting in the other room waiting for me to finish writing it, mocking me for my lack of discipline and fear of success. I am in perhaps the worst shape of my life and realize that for both esteem and health reasons its time to do something about it. I am closing in on twnety eight years old, only nine days away, and I feel the need for change.

Destroy. Erase. Improve.

I really intended to write more, to say more, but suddenly I feel like hell has opened its gates and is trying to pull me assunder. Its time to fight back, face everything and come out on top. First, dinner and time with the little one. Then the work. Then the ever intimidating novel. Its going to be a long night.