reflections, all tied to america
I haven’t written in here as much as I would like. I guess I’ve been so busy doing things that I haven’t taken the time to reflect.
How do you reflect on the last month? Outwardly: smooth sailing. Signed a new office. Shipped the technology. Successfully onboarded clients. Set date for talk. Booked tickets to San Francisco. Reconnected with old friends. Celebrated a lot of birthdays, including my own. Summer parties. Movies and brunches. New people, new connections, new experiences.
So, things are fine. Good, even. But that’s not interesting to read, nor is it interesting to write. It has no narrative. Narrative is the domain of the real thoughts and the real emotions that are lurking dangerously inside.
You don’t know this, but I cried when I got your message. I involuntarily burst into tears. In public, on the metro. I don’t think anyone saw. I pretended that I was rubbing my eyes and wiped away the tears pretty quickly. I did this while listening to rap music until I feel coolly indifferent about or perhaps hotly motivated to forget my reaction, because I can connect with:
I’m on to the next one
However, in actuality, I did (do?) feel sad. But I only feel it occasionally at night, before I fall asleep, because I just don’t think about it on most days. I don’t think about it because I don’t want to change anything. In this regard, I’m enjoying the present—and looking forward to the future.
It’s difficult for me to deal with something that isn’t black and white. It’s really difficult for me to deal with gray. Gray—gray like… How do you grasp something that is in between? Now you know why I’m a founder and not a writer. However, I realize that I can (should?) be at a place where I don’t want to change anything with my rational mind but can still acknowledge and accept the past with my emotional mind.
This holiday weekend has been good and long and relaxing and I am itching to get back to work. I am reminded vaguely of being sixteen, enrolled at an institution founded by Puritans, and thoroughly embracing that sober Protestant New England mindset: there is absolutely nothing (emotional) that can’t be cured if you would just work harder.
It is so American. As American as the green light, Silicon Valley, or rap music.
Self-made, you just affiliated
I built it ground up, you bought it renovated
And I am American in an American city.
Happy belated, America.
