2012. My turn...

Come on. You DID NOT want to squirm and see Dick Clark suffering through another countdown did you?

I didn’t think so.

2012. Twelve years into a new century. Sometimes I laugh at the thought. As a child, I envisioned hover cars, transporters, Klingons, and new worlds. I suppose there is a lot to be disappointed about with the lack of advancement in regards to humankind. Wars are still waged. Global warming still, well, warms. Dogs sleeping with cats. It’s utter chaos.

I used 2011 as a year of introspection. Being a recovering introvert, I am pretty good at tearing my insides up and rebuilding them. Every person is a story and an interesting one at that. My story is no more or less interesting than the person across the street or on the other side of the world. There is drama, heartache, heroics, tears, laughter, comedy and all of the elements that make up something called Life. It is my limited experience that tells me, the difference between human stories is that one of the many elements of that person’s life may be inflated more so than the next person. Someone who has grown up in war torn Bosnia knows the tragedy and heartache of human folly more than the average Hollywood starlet. And that starlet may have personal trauma that no one within 10 clicks can understand. Someone wins a lottery, and someone dies hungry. Someone is born to live a century and someone is born only to die moments later. It is humans being and it can be maddening.

To that end, I have been evaluating all the relationships that I’ve forged in life. This is not an easy task. We meet many people hour to hour. Some are fleeting glimpses of passersby rushing off to their lives, never to intersect with our existence ever again. Others are temporarily permanent. That’s not a misprint. Permanence in our time means little. Those who are held longest in our lives are deemed ‘permanent’ but, in reality, they are just a protracted existence.

Still relationships, good, bad, dramatic, indifferent, take energy. So does blinking an eye. It takes energy, albeit very little. Blink one hundred times as fast as you can? More energy.

It’s well documented the medical miracles I’ve encountered. Perhaps this is the driving force behind my introspection. I am by no means cocky. On the health scale, there is someone out there, probably a doctor or two, who is holding their breath. I don’t speak from bravado. I speak all too much from feelings.

I feel 2012 is my turn and I want to take as many people as I can with me on this journey. That would mean some couldn’t make this trip. The energy is no longer there. The tank is empty but it's my tank, my turn, my guts, and my aspirations. This all is about ‘self’ and with that comes the instant association of ‘selfish’. I don’t believe this is true. I consider this a choice. The betterment of oneself. The pursuit of fulfillment. It’s a path that most ignore. Some recognize this earlier in life. Some never acknowledge it. To say “this is who I am” is being human.

Maybe it is a survivor’s instinct to kick forward with full force. After all, we’ve been told we only have so many bullets left – why not use them? What are we waiting for? We’ve been caught by the storm unprepared and we’ve been told it could happen again. I am no longer waiting for the hurricane to rage again.

It is time. Time for all of us to charge and time for all of us to change. We may be unsure as to when, or where or even how to proceed, but if you look hard enough, you will see your wall. You can see what it is that holds you back from being who you truly need to be. It may take more subtly than brute force, more planning than sheer will. I’ve never been a patient man but I have been a patient. I don’t want to wait for that again. If change is to happen, then I want it to happen, even a fractional amount, because of what I am dictating at this moment.

This is 2012. Twelve years into a new century. And now it’s my turn.