Thirty-one

The first song I heard as a 31 year old: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qn5IHOi-vII

Appropriate, I suppose. It's not a song I'm very familiar with, but listening a little more intently while I write this, it's relatable.

I kind of wish I had written this a few days ago. I was looking forward to 31, I really felt like it was a refreshing number. 30 held the end of so many things; it was a year of moving on. 31 appeared to be promising, I feel as though I've done a lot of changing in the last year. I'm proud to say I feel like me again. I've rediscovered my creative side, for real. I'm exploring things I never thought I would. I've become more content with my best effort, more accepting of imperfect results. I've found a sense of deep pride from the things I've created, regardless of how they are regarded by others. I've found a self confidence I always pretended to have but never did. At 30, I was defeated. At 31, I've learned how not to fight. At 30, I was stagnant, at 31, I'm flourishing. At 30, I was uncomfortable, at 31, I'm finding a familiarity with myself.

I want to thank the powers that be for this week's reminders that there is no time other than now. I didn't know Jessica well, but I can easily recognize the depth of the tragedy. Her poor daughter, losing innocence at 2. She'll never get that back. This girl's family will bury one of their youngest members. None of us expect to outlive our siblings; I know I don't. I knew Mr. Nuthall. When I moved to West Valley, I made the choice to take British Literature over American Literature, Am Lit is so stuffy and British literature is so...fun! Chaucer? Shakespeare? Yes, please! My class was myself and 3 other guys, 16 or 17 and Mr. Nuthall was our Robin Williams in Dead Poet Society. I had a difficult time relating to the males available to me at the time; we did not see the world the same way, and so we didn't really discuss the kind of things that needed to be discussed at that time. In short, I lacked a mentor. The members of the English department at WV were exactly that. Mr. Nuthall and Mr. Sortore were some of the most inspirational people I've known, without even trying. They were true leaders of men; patient, malleable, wise, intelligent. They had a way of expressing how they viewed the world that was captivating, but at the same time, they had such a thirst to understand how we viewed the world.

The loss of these two people, Jessica and Mr. Nuthall is very striking. The frailty of life is terrifying. The difference between life and death, what is and what was, is nothing more than a moment. As each moment passes, we come closer to that defining moment. I don't know how many moments I have left, but I truly want to make sure I take full advantage of them. 30 dwelled on what was. 31 will be spent on what is, and what could be.