drama is imperative on the first day of the year

I fell through the cracks for the past couple of months, fumbling my way through loads of readings, 2000 something essay words, and a budding, gentle kind of love. But the first day of a new year just tends to push me to soak in a bit of nostalgia about the year that was, to examine the possibilities of my near and distant future, and to buy myself a new planner that I use only just intermittently. I skimmed through my 2013 notebook and was taken aback, in a pleasant sort of way, in how big and intimidating that year was. Every other year that came before it (twenty six of them in total) just paled in comparison, not to mention that the normative meaning of “good” in the coming years perhaps will be measured against this one that has just gone past me. It was unbelievable.

My Erasmus scholarship, of course, tops the list. It’s been months and I still couldn’t fathom the grace of His love. Maybe I never will, and that is alright. I am okay not knowing HOW I came here, lest the WHY is a question that chose to live at the back of my head — if only it pays the rent the sum of a regular flat in central London. But no, it is an inanimate freeloader. Maybe that’s okay after all, because without the why ever bugging me I might as well have taken this blessing all too lightly, without a sense of responsibility nor gratitude. Then that would be an empty life. And emptiness is the worst thing in the world, a notch worse than brokenness.

Then there were the travel shenanigans that came with a study abroad experience. Oh, how I once dreamed of just escaping it all: of risking myself a dose of precariousness in the name of novelty. I was that crazy. Or naive, more like. In any case, my legs brought me as far away as possible to unchartered territories. It brought me hundreds of miles away from my home. I thank my lower extremities everyday because even if they’re chicken legs and a bit frail, they didn’t give up on my wanderlust. Their persistence to take me anywhere apart from the spot I found myself moving from taught my heart to yearn for the warmth of a familiar space. It saved me from the building contempt that likely all familiar things tend to breed. The unfamiliar brought me a sense of home: it showed me how it is to be lost.

But what could be the most underrated of all the good things that had ever graced my existence, at least in how I saw myself processing my experiences for the past year, is the overwhelming presence of my family and friends. I’d have to apologize: my cerebral approach to most things won’t allow me to freely and rightfully express my capacity to love. But it is there, my heart has all of you even with the scarce Viber messages or Skype calls that can only be accommodated in the weekends.

My new year is fraught with uncertainties. I think I had the best year which is paradoxically bad. You know how they say that when you’re down, the only way to go is up? Conversely, I think 2013 was the uppest of the up. Does that mean there’s no way to go but down? I hope that’s not the case and that my logic is just screwed. Anyway, I’d love for 2014 to be such a badass in proving me wrong.

Cheers to a new year!

Picture taken right before the NYE fireworks display at the London Eye 🙂