One Year Ago Today

On July 18, 2007 I stepped onto a plane from Detroit Metropolitan Airport, knowing in only a few days I'd find myself the farthest away I'd ever been from everything I knew. I can't quite remember or describe how I felt that day, just as I'm sure at the time I couldn't dream or predict how I'd feel one year later. But the year passed, and I imagine I'm just as unsure and directionless now as I was then.

The complete title of the following is "In the Margins of My College-Ruled Notebook V", and I wrote it during the turmoil and uncertainty of graduating.

DATE: 02/06/2007 02:20:44 AM
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BODY:
I could tell you how I'm just afraid
I could tell you how I stayed behind
I could go on for hours and say nothing
I could tell you how I made up my mind

I might think to ask a stupid question
I might think to try to cut in line
I might want to ignore all the little rules
I might think to make my own design

Next year I'll make a living chasing sunsets
And write a book on how we're all insane
Next month I'll move to somewhere west of paris
And give a speech on how to live in spain
Next week I'll call up all my friends and neighbors
And give a toast to each with fine champagne
Tomorrow I'll set out upon my journey
And I'll never be the same

It's obvious that I don't fit the mold
It's obvious I knew that in advance
It's wrong to say that life will just work out
It's obvious that I don't stand a chance

Next year I'll make a living chasing sunsets
And write a book on how we're all insane
Next month I'll move to somewhere west of paris
And give a speech on how to live in spain
Next week I'll call up all my friends and neighbors
And give a toast to each with fine champagne
Tomorrow I'll set out upon my journey
And I'll never be the same

I thought that life was a four-lane highway
I thought that I could simply fall in line
Some plans are made carefully with time
but still others need a bottle of old wine

Next year I'll make a living chasing sunsets
And write a book on how we're all insane
Next month I'll move to somewhere west of paris
And give a speech on how to live in spain
Next week I'll call up all my friends and neighbors
And give a toast to each with fine champagne
Tomorrow I'll set out upon my journey
And I'll never be the same

I didn't know how literal the "journey" would be when I wrote that, but at the same time I don't believe it was ever just India.
So, what will the next year bring? I know it's foolish to think there will be a date somewhere in my future where I'm content, but I find myself believing it daily. But despite the hazy road ahead, the last 365 days were not for loss. And I can only hope that no matter how unsure and directionless I feel on the July 18ths to come I never count the year wasted.