on grief

"Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends." -Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

Grief is an intangible thing for those who remain untouched by it. But it is inevitable, something I have realized upon turning the last page of Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, an account of a widowed author attempting to make sense of her husband's sudden death. One particular thought of hers really struck me-- the fact that "everything evens out in the end," that bad things will happen to all of us. It is a part of the human inclination to live happily that we are disillusioned into living as if we were immortal. Taking things for granted, not paying attention to the things and the people around us-- we live as if we were to live forever. 

This is a discovery Didion describes, stringing the reader along in her desolate journey through her year of magical thinking. She sits down to dinner one night to have her husband collapse from a catastrophic cardiac event. The normalcy of it all is what is shocking. Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. The fact that bad things are so imminently possible is sobering. We are told to not take things for granted. But how many of us actually do not? It is the first step to moving past the grief. Having little regrets. 

what happens next

The endings of books are nearly always dissatisfying. The sad fact is that as readers, we become attached to these characters that we have followed and come to care about. And then we must say goodbye to them, never knowing how their lives turn out-- what ever happens to them next. They disappear into the depths of the literary limbo where no book character is able to escape. No one ever knows what happens to them there. 

What happens next? What happens to the little boy, the beautiful being born to an ugly darkness? I'd love to think a happy story for him. He joins the family. The world miraculously returns into the lush atmosphere bursting with life. He thrives amongst a bond of love and friendship without the constant suffering and hunger. He lives a fulfilling, satisfying life, perhaps finding a wife in some beautiful maiden who sweeps into his life. He fathers delightful children who too bask in the light of happiness, love, and fulfillment. 

But that's probably not what would happen. In the best of situations, the boy joins the family who accepts him as their own. It is difficult to imagine the boy moving on from his father's death. And if he does, he is perhaps able to entrust in his new family the kind of dependence and love he once reserved only for his father. I cannot see a future for this boy that is any brighter than it was throughout the novel because the reality is plain: there is nothing in this ruined world for him. Nothing for anyone. 

But maybe that is the beauty of book endings. I can imagine anything I want. Who cares if it doesn't make sense. I can pluck that little boy from literary limbo and place him in the happiest world I can dream up. I can do it all in my head. 

the very long road

Cormac McCarthy's The Road has been a poignant, painful journey to say the least. As an avid reader often inclined to get too involved inside a story, I have a tendency to fall headlong into the book as I were as much a part of the story as any character. Every time I open the book, I am the man or the boy. I suffer along with them, despair in the ruined world, hopeless. 

An infant impaled on a stick, roasting over a fire. A scene I had never expected. Words with an effect on me that no other words have ever had. I didn't want to read on. I wanted to close the book and never read the horrible words again. I wanted to cry. (Perhaps too dramatic-sounding, this is all unfortunately 100% true). 

From this I derive my final feelings of the novel. I see the literary worth. The writing is impeccable, moving, poignant, effective, and beautiful. The story is haunting, painful, incredible. It is the story of human nature when there is nothing else. The stripped down version of human vices and virtues. The core of all of us. I see the literary worth. 

But this is not to say I have enjoyed reading this novel. At no point have I experienced enjoyment or pleasure. I'd like to think there is always some kind of hope, some kind of notion, something that can foster happiness, something to live for. McCarthy's story is crushing. 

kissing 2012 goodbye

I've always loved the end of a year. It's a time when reflection is common, a time when remembering a year of memories and experiences and happenings prompts the nostalgia that makes me truly thankful for what I have. A representation of my nostalgia is my favorite moments and parts of 2012:

10. The Olympics. Probably the one sporting event (besides March madness) that I ever consider worth sitting own in front of the television to watch and concentrate on. It's the chance to cheer on your own country, immerse yourself in national pride as you cheer on Michael Phelps or go wild with Misty May Treanor's winning spike. The end of the Olympics is a sad time indeed. It won't come around for another two years.

9. Taylor Swift. Okay, okay. So I love Taylor Swift. I have no shame. The release of Red was an exciting day for me. A very exciting day. I listen to it on repeat.

8. The beginning of the end. The start of senior year-- a landmark unparalleled in my academic career. The beginning of the end of my secondary schooling. Talk about nostalgia.

7. iPhone 5. Is that too materialistic? I don't know how I would function without it. First world problems.

6. Siemens Competition. Yes, I actually did compete in a nerdy research competition called Siemens. (*cue immature giggling?) All funny names aside, it was an experience unlike any other. A weekend where everything was paid for, from the fancy hotel to the upscale course meals, to the gas mileage. I could get used to this kind of living.

5. Les Miserables. It was that good.

4. Orchy dork time. The very first time I played as a soloist with a full orchestra. Nerve-wracking, exciting, inspiring, and incredible. The first time I truly felt like I had a voice as a musician.

3. Hitting that dang submit button. It feels good every time without fail. Applying to college has a certain finality to it, doesn't it?

2. Getting into college. Excuse me while I have a 30-second dance party while I celebrate the fact that I will, in fact, be going to college. There was always that chance that I wouldn't.

1. The best vacation in the whole entire world. AKA cruise. AKA visiting extraordinary, exotic islands while everyone else was at home slogging through college applications. AKA warm weather. AKA swimming with the turtles. AKA snorkeling with Dory and Nemo. AKA I want to go back. AKA the best part of 2012.