hello, and welcome to the fourth home of the chronicles of genevan suburbia. in early 2005, this blog began on xanga under the peculiar moniker of the songwriter’s curse. if you care to know what that meant, you may ask. it became what it is today in late 2005 when it migrated to an msn space. finally, in mid-2006, it underwent another transition to a myspace blog. since myspace is inaccessible, sketchy, and a real drag, the chronicles are finally moving to a proper blogging location. it’s about time, ’nuff said.
i find it ironic that i am starting a “new” blog with a post on endings.
i don’t particularly like endings. in a transient city like geneva, they come far too often. i’ve been watching this particular ending creep up on me, out of the corner of my eye, and i’ve been thinking, maybe if i ignore it, it’ll all just go away. this is my typical problem-solving (problem-avoiding?) strategy. it doesn’t work very well. let’s spit it out. high school ended today. graduation was last friday; my friends and i were the loser seniors who were too enamored with our campus, our teachers, our lounge to leave it all behind. so i went back, yesterday and today. every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. (lovedrug) it’s funny, how i spent the better part of four years just dying to be done with high school, and now i’m sitting here, still numb, thinking, it’s over. it’s all over. it hasn’t quite hit me, i think. last friday, in addition to being graduation, was the last fat friday at crossroads church in ferney. my last fat friday… i’m going to miss youth group. i’m not sure if i’m ready to grow up yet. the friday before that was horatio’s farewell show in the pays de gex. it was more emotional than i’d like to admit. i got some good photos, and it’s hard to think that those are the last photos.
perhaps my trouble with endings comes in contemplating their utter, complete finality.
peter left yesterday. that was another ending, in the sense of the end of a visit. the last few times he’s come and gone, it’s been easy to say, “there’ll be another visit.” i know there will still be more visits, but their finite nature weighs on me. maybe that was why i took it harder than usual, why i cried on the train home, why i was happy, in some twisted sense of the word, for the rain because i always like to pretend that it was the rain that smudged all that black eyeliner.
there is some comfort in that statement, “oh well, another time.” we deceive ourselves, we so deceive ourselves. because maybe there will be another time, but more than likely there will not. the important things only happen once. if it matters to you, then you only get one shot. a prime example of this, something we all have in common, is life. we all get one shot at life. we’re not mario; we only have one life. when this game is over, it’s over. we don’t have lives enough to start this level over; we don’t have checkpoints at parts in our lives to which we can return if we die. this is life; this is it. this is our one shot and we’d damn well better make it good because it’s all we’ve got. in the end, we’re all part of the ultimate statistic: 100% of humans die from the disease we classify as life.
we have a moment. it’s up to us whether we choose to live in it.
One Comment
hey!
so now i can stop having to check myspace on a regular basis, that’s convenient. perhaps i should start a proper blog too, although i expect i’ll slack off too much to write it properly.
it’s a little ironic, sure, but it makes sense that the new blog comes at a time of endings. because a new chapter of life is beginning, and the change needs documenting. i’m glad you have somewhere to write this all out, the closest thing i have is an msn conversation history with you =].
it’s so weird to live in a time of endings. for everyone i know at university who’s not in their first year, this is the last time i see them. it’s a strange feeling, and we’re always in denial – “have a nice… rest of life” just doesn’t quite convey the emotional confusion it is. every heartbeat is past and gone.
i’m still glad you brought me back to have my last fat friday too, and see you shine at graduation. you’re the girl of the year. and there will be another visit. perhaps not always in geneva/genthod/switzerfrance, but you mean more to me than a nice memory to reminisce and grin about. i’m glad you were able to cry. as much as it hurts to think about, when your shoulder is in a different country, it’s all i can do. and the honesty of letting it out, not bottling it up, is admirable. but i still can’t wait to come back to dry your eyes, the ones containing all reason.
perhaps you’re right. we only do get one life. perhaps there won’t be another time. when i’m hanging out with you though, the moment we live in feels fulfilled. i don’t regret a moment of it. in all the spontaneous fun, i think we’ve learned how to master the moment. nothing can erase the joys we’ve shared, and we’ve still preserved a future to enjoy, unless God calls us home first.
i miss you terribly each day. as i sit, sitting at the bottom of the ride this past year has been, clutching at the questions of the life ahead (visas, accommodation), i still hear the tune of hearts beating in time.