I got a request for a sort of update on my outlook for the year, seeing as the year I last outlined was 2011, which is by now soundly in the books nearly everywhere, I’m sure. Already I’m sort of regretting that I immediately commented back that I would, because now it’s a little daunting. But let’s just keep writing along here and see what happens.
Last year I expounded on how it would be a year of great change, or some bullshit like it, and it didn’t really turn out that way. I graduated easily, like I expected, then I took an awesome road trip which will someday find itself romanticized for everyone to enjoy, then I came back home and did pretty much the exact same things I’ve been doing. It wasn’t all exactly the same––part of what made the trip so incredible was a series of divinely poetic happenstances that culminated in my tumbling head over foot from state to state while I slowly but surely found a homesickness I’ve never felt before. So when I finally got off the train into Austin’s distinct 108 degree heat I didn’t find myself sweltering but soothed, warmed, comforted. It was strange to enjoy a summer here, although I’m sure I complained about it nearly as much as ever (maybe more, the AC at work kept breaking). If I can be candid about it, I haven’t had any rush to go any further than the summer, to do anything other than roll around in bed or wait for the next chance to do so. It’s been a while since someone’s made me happy regardless of where I am, and I’m not hurrying to leave that.
So there’s a tremendous element of timidity here, of trepidation to move in any direction, and of dread, because as certain as things were to change with school, now they’re certain to change with people. I guess I should just get into it, and not be so cryptic as usual. The aforementioned love interest has plans to move to Florida after the summer, and I have plans to…well, I have no fucking idea. This year is either going to be great or it’s going to be horrible; I simply can’t imagine a scenario in which one of those possibilities doesn’t result.
In any case, one of two things can happen for me resultantly: I will finally move out of Texas, hopefully once and for all, or I will somehow develop a resolve to stay in Austin. I’m really pulling for the first option, although it seems there’s more chance for that move to be an ultimately (at least initially) sad one. But who knows? It’s clear I’ll likely need a roommate wherever I go, and it could prove just as great to live with one of my old friends as with the most [I'm just going to skip this part for your sake, no one needs to see me getting mushy and sappy over a girl I find especially cute]. I can’t really predict where I’ll go because most of my life has been spent trying to figure out how I ended up somewhere I hadn’t ever expected. But this time I’m expecting to be back near a beach of some sort, since it has felt so awkward living this far away––my family seems to have a propensity for the coast.
At some point I should find myself in Indonesia to see my dad, which ought to prove interesting at least. I’ve never been further outside of the States than Ensanada, only a well-publicized donkey’s spitting distance south of Tijuana. But Indonesia is literally on the other side of the world: Southern Hemisphere, Eastern Hemisphere, twelve-hour (I think) time difference. It takes about a day and a half worth of travel, most of it sputtering precariously through the air in a pressurized steel tube stuck next to whoever happened to prefer the aisle, when I would clearly have to get up several times to urinate on a flight of this length. Anyway, that will be fun, and hopefully give me a good amount of time to write or doze or just think as the world spins below me. Those trips aren’t all that difficult or intimidating since the bus and train rides of this past summer, which took thirty-one and thirty hours, respectively. The train was better than the bus, and now we’ll see how an overseas flight compares to that.
Besides just going places I’ll have to find a job, although I’m very seriously considering self-publishing via e-readers and the internet, and trying to make my living off of that. It was a little disenchanting to consider never seeing my name in real print, but there’s also a good chance that I’ll have more options and more control of any books of mine that are printed. Of course that would be great, but then there’s the problem of eating in the meantime. Not only that but, you know, having a place to live, getting around, etc. I’m great at editing scholastic papers, correcting grammar and style, alongside noting suggestions to strengthen logic, solidify arguments, refine focal points, yada yada, so I’ve considered trying to do an online editing service, and see if anyone is interested in paying me to help them get better grades, or have their blogs seem more legit, or totally succeed with that love letter, or whatever other scenario that could arise with excellent grammar. I don’t want to explicitly offer copywriting services, but I can easily make some bullet points into almost anything (poems, sonnets, essays, articles, haiku, short stories, memos, you name it) for the right price.
Beyond that I’m going to ponder going to grad school for an MFA in creative writing, all the while generating material for my submissions if I decide to stick with the idea. I don’t have much else to discuss, unless I get into politics, but let’s save that rather distressing topic for another time or no time at all. Happy January 11th, everyone!
