In third grade, my music teacher told us the story of Beethoven. I think it was Beethoven. I’m too lazy to google it now.
When Beethoven first started losing his hearing, he inserted a metal tube into his ear to help him drown out the excess noise and focus his hearing. As his hearing worsened, however, the metal tube served less and less effectual; to compensate, Beethoven drove the tube deeper and deeper into his ear canal.
My twenties are gone. Forever.
I’ve often been accused of being too dramatic, both on this blog and in “real life.” I’m too emotional. Too heavy and melancholy and not enough amounts of light-hearted and sunny.
For the better part of a year, I’ve been compiling video footage from a road trip that took me from California to the Carolinas and practically everywhere in between. I’ve been editing a hybrid retrospective / book trailer for days and weeks at a time, and I’ve also forgotten about it and left it to collect dust in my hard drive for days and weeks at a time.
And then I’ve returned to the video with renewed fire the further my book progresses.
I’m the kind of guy who compares anything to everything: my favorite TV show (Survivor) to my least favorite (The Bachelor), the best month (April) to the worst month (November), the greatest year of my life (2012) to the very worst (2006).
I can’t help it. I compare. It’s what I do. It’s why I love rankings and ratings and top-10 lists, the best and the worst. I can’t get enough of the comparison game.
I hate new years. I hate resolutions. I hate the assumption that just because the calendar changes from one month and one year to the next, the past is wiped clean and anything is possible — well, for about two and a half weeks. And then it’s back to tubs of ice cream and pornography.
While I, like many people, was happy to see the coffin close on 2016, I also entered 2017 feeling fast doses of reality flowing in my veins.