Today was the last class day. We have a reading and finals week left–really, about 35% of the work for the entire semester is still left for us to do in two weeks. But, no more classes.
This past year has been rough, I am not going to deny that. I don’t know if it was worth it, either. What I’m going to have to get used to is the fact that the unexpected really will be what happens, and any attempt to prophesy will be met with failure.
I have a lot that I want to say, but I am not sure if writing this way is the best medium of expression. I have been met with a lot of truths that used to be understood only superficially, and they were oft-dismissed as cliches that everyone knows. There are a lot of things like that–you know something but then when you get exposed to it under a knew light, you really come to know it. The truth about the Bible not containing much that can be verified historically or archaeologically outside of the Bible. The truth of Christ probably saying very little of what is recorded of his teachings. The truth that the U.S. has had a history of murdering civillians inside and outside of its borders under the guise of bringing the light on the hill of Christianity and Democracy and Captialism to others. Nothing new, really, and yet, it is also all brand new.
The same thing goes with my own mortality–one minute I am blithely saying, “of course I’ll die one day” while I hardly think about death at all, and the next minute I am terrified and violently sick to my stomach at the very thought of having my life snuffed out. You could say the same thing about my love of family, my understanding of what is ethically right and just, my own sense of smallness and insignificance in history–all very important truths that can at an instant be understood utterly superficially and the next instant felt so deeply that you want to run to the farthest corner of the earth to get away from these truths.
I, for one, have led an insignificant life. When you consider the things that I have actually done of my own volition, you see that I have set about and accomplished next to nothing. My redemption will be in the form of my child(ren), or it won’t be at all. My writing will probably ultimately cancel itself out, if it even surfaces at all–equal parts damning and praising me as I have spared very little of the monstrous nature of my soul. In all frankness, I would not expect a single soul to read everything I wrote–for if you did you would still not have gotten to know me the way I so badly wished to be known.