joy and reality

525,600 minutes – how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

You know the song. Well, I know the song…and every other line and note in the entire musical. (Rock opera, if we’re being technical about things. But I digress.) Seven years ago, when I was introduced to RENT for the first time, it appealed to my freshman-in-college, whole-world-is-expanding sensibilities, and nourished my musical theatre obsession at the same time. You see, I come from a long history of total dorkiness. Don’t let the climbing harness and quad skates fool you…long before all of that was part of my life, I spent the better part of my energy teaching myself to like coffee–which was a wildly successful endeavor–and listening to my favorite musicals on repeat. Like, we’re talking overdose repeat. At least I can say that I don’t do much halfway.

But that was seven years ago. And here I am. I still love coffee. Even more now, considering I’m two weeks away from a Master’s degree. You don’t get through grad school without developing such affections. And I still love musicals, especially RENT. I try to watch it once a year or so, and it’s one of those things that has a depth that is different every time. Because I’m really NOT just the same as I was seven years ago. At eighteen I wanted nothing more than to move to New York City and be a writer. To put my finger on the pulse of a city with which I was entirely enamored and get lost in its gritty charm.

In the interim between that season and this one, I’ve been lucky enough to build a life that was nothing like I expected. Obviously, I don’t live in New York (though I’ve visited twice), and no one pays me to write, which I’ve learned is kind of how I prefer it since I’m not the most disciplined wordsmith. When I graduate in a few weeks, I’ll have a degree in counseling and a few more grey hairs than I started with. (No kidding about the grey hairs. First one came in a week before I turned 21.)

I guess I’m writing to process the transition. My seasons have been dictated by the academic schedule for my entire working memory, and soon that won’t be the case. That panics me a little, though I know it shouldn’t. During this last season I have been so happy that I’ve hardly noticed it pass by. I was kind of blindsided by reality last week when my calendar suddenly announced the arrival of December.

I love this right-now life. I’m not ready for it to change. But, no matter what changes or doesn’t, I am glad I was blindsided. This season, I have been happy. No-trouble-sleeping happy (which is a cause for celebration when your bouts of insomnia started in elementary school). Dance-like-you-don’t-care happy. I didn’t even notice the season’s end creeping up on me.

And I think that’s all I can ask for. To be a little distracted by the joys of my day-to-day. If I can reflect on a season or a series of seasons and see that, it really doesn’t get much better, and no matter what happens after this, I had a really rockin’ autumn. I plan to hold onto that.

May your December be full of joy and meaning and reflection. If you do find it lacking in joy, however, I recommend throwing (literally) tinsel at your tree (especially a Christmas tree, if you have one, but any tree will do), or a quiet cup of your favorite coffee, if that suits you better. I tried both. Either way, take some time to enjoy my favorite time of the whole year, okay? And let me know how it goes.