the end is the beginning

Forgive my marked lack of eloquence  in this circumstance. I find myself at a figurative standstill as I look back, being pleasantly overwhelmed, at the year that was, and that came to an unsurreptitious close. I may have been flagrant in the calumny of all things crass and kitschy, often too indignant and swift to contest, and for that reason, must have been the unintended cause for my inacuity on exploring something as ubiquitous and pedestrian as an annual conclusion. For to even attempt to condense, distill, nomenclate, classify, and order a whole year into an entry is just as, in my opinion, foolhardy and delusional as me foregoing caffeine. So I shan't.

To be more precise, there is a n enuresian thirst to illustrate the plethora of vertiginous emotional somersaulting I encountered in the  year that was, ungraspable by the grit and savoy of prose. Now, to find a place to begin is just as daunting as finding the appropriate flourish by which to conclude. Since my writing methodology lacks neither order, pattern, rhythm, regularity, discipline, nor sometimes sense, thus method being inaccurate as a descriptor at all, to examine with unceremonious procession across my entries would be a disservice and blunt oversight on momentous moments that have occurred, and were left undocumented, whether of my own volition or circumstantial dispositions.

Exorbitant it may seem, the milieu of this year was one replete with savory optimism. Supremely delectable, everything around me felt brimming with excitement, on the cusp of progress, and superbly poised to push the envelope. I admit, there were dank and weary spreads along the way, punctuated with my distaste for a stagnant professional predicament, whereas all around me friends and colleagues were ushering in major acquisitions and gaudy outlandish promotions. It was difficult, euphemistically of course, to imagine my career pregnant with promise, and I felt that my career has met its glacial plateau.

But if the recent string of unfortunate events is any sign, it is that I am still lucky and fortunate compared to others, that despite the discordant and distasteful state of affairs at the office, there is an opportunity to learn from it, to reach the epiphany that I still have a choice. Life, its existence and predicament, spells this. That the fact I am capable of cognizant assessments affords me the possibility of change. I may not be as brave, able to take the leap of faith unto foreign lands, but I feel that for the time being, my place is here. And that there is still much to be had and achieve in the local design scene. It may not necessarily fall within my current consciousness, but in the end a creative mind will always find its channel to express, and to create.

Whether my place is really in architecture I cannot say for certain. Maybe advertising or media will allow me a more generous room to grow, but it too entails a willingness to start from the ground up, nurturing a new seed that will, hopefully, come into career fruition. So foray I must through the muddy drivel of this setting, that I may find the ingot of gold I seek.

I have to be brave to seek my success, relentless to ask what I deserve, and machiavellian to earn what is my worth. The problem with the pig is that it is a forager, face upon the ground sniffing the trail of spoils. I must emulate the symbol that prevails, the dynamic and proud, the pro-active and persevering. I have to shed my coat of soil, and reveal the illuminant carapace of change.

Let the year of the dragon begin.



Original image from here.