Starting from scratch

What a day. In the blink of an eye my entire savings account has vanished. Why? Hospital bills. At first, they came trickling in, little harmless things--tremors inflicting manageable amounts of damage: $143.95, $77.50, $48.25. I'd almost convinced myself that the Big One wasn't coming after all. Then the quake hit like a mother, a ruthless highrise-toppling 9.0 on the Richter scale of my sanity: $1,042.00. I stood in the living room last night with my coat still on, bill in hand, staring at the wall and thinking All the work to save that money... and Why can't I ever catch a break? Just ONE?! Then my attitude shifted: the bill must be paid, the past cannot be undone, the loss isn't worth agonizing over, and I actually have enough money in my savings account to finish the whole thing off in one payment. At three o'clock today, I did just that. Now, as I sit here in the mercifully quiet basement of the Software Engineering Institute, I'm thinking to myself How much and how often am I gonna have to whore myself out to rebuild my savings? I guess I can kiss that shimmering mirage of a trip to Germany or Turkey or the British Isles goodbye. This is but one of the many unfortunate penalties that I've paid for having been blessed with more than just a touch of instability. If I were asked to relate one positive element of the whole experience, it would be this: without insurance, my out-of-pocket bill would have totaled $3,165. Health insurance companies may operate as depraved, humanity-hating mini-governments with dollar signs for eyes, but at least I have insurance.

Lately, to keep my spirits up, I've been reflecting a good bit upon my magnificent Thanksgiving break--the road trip to Georgia with my friend Greg: how wonderful his family was to me and in general; how exuberantly generous the weather was when we hiked on Thanksgiving day; how good it was to swing by Nashville briefly, meeting up with my best friend Ryan and pounding a few too many excellent dark beers down in the company of guys I'd give anything for. Even the long drives south and back seemed to pass quickly, colored as they were by an endless variety of music, meaningful conversation, amusing stops (e.g., the criminally tacky combination BP station / fireworks emporium in Tennessee), surprisingly lovely early-winter landscapes bathed in misty darkness (on our way to Georgia) and sunshine (returning), and the refreshing liberty of not having to be or sound like someone I'm not during any part of the journey.

It's terribly frustrating not having any inkling whatsoever as to what my destiny in life is, yet being plagued with an unwholesome obsessiveness that refuses to allow me some refuge from the habit of thinking about such things constantly. As this year comes to an end, I'm once again in a position to symbolically start anew, as you perhaps are. If I can allow myself to simply live, to stop predicting possible futures and to avoid self-persecution as a result of my perceived failure to succeed with the magnitude that I'd expected myself to, that will be just as wonderful as any conventional new year's resolution. Of this year, I have certainly learned that I am a survivor. Does that not count for something?