Currently Reading What Is the What By Dave Eggers see related

A new year this 2007.  This xanga box feels so foreign to me.  I guess I've gotten so used to pounding my thoughts into Boyfriend that I haven't bothered to untangle them for a while.  I don't know what to make of 2006.  I was bracing for a summary as the year dissipated.  I've become fragile and frenzied.  It's so unlike me.  I can't quite remember myself in 2005, nor have I mourn the loss. I seem to have spent my life looking, preparing for some moment, but never expected reckoning to be a test of patience and grace and love.  Whatever else has reckoning been, but white-knuckled discipline in what-is-right.  

This year is ominous.  I'm finally moving forward, not "into."  I'm living without knowing because I can no longer find a way to plot ahead into a foregone, neat thesis.  There is sensational freedom in living.  Life roils me.  Life humiliates me.  But I let it through and it's exhilarating.  It's okay to feel and not conclude.