FUBARgenre: The Genre of Fubar

This year, I turned 28. There. I said it. I spent most of my early 20s climbing the corporate ladder, my mid-20s scorning it, and now, in my late 20s, I know in my heart that I will never look back. And life couldn’t be any better.

This year, I took a page right out of Jojo’s book and “grappled with love, life, and meaning.” The results are nothing short of spectacular. But that’s for me to know and you to find out.

This year, I questioned the path I took and flirted briefly with the thought of starting anew. But I do that year after year after year. Perhaps my friends are right in concluding that I should just learn to be happy when I’m happy.

This year, I realized that I have a good thing going. My life, for all its imperfections and self-staged melodramas and whatnot, is great. And if given the power to undo the spindles of the moirae, I wouldn’t touch a single thread.

This year, I got engaged. Again. For the nth time. And again, for the nth time, I got disengaged, if such a word is appropriate in this context. And again, for the nth time, Mark’s love and patience amazed me. Great things come to those who wait, he says (finding an ally in no less than Ken, I might add…hehehe). And I only hope that I can one day thank him for his magnanimity. It still baffles me, sometimes, how such a man can love me. But here he is in my life, so I must have done something right.

This year, I’m learning to be alone again. That may not necessarily be a bad thing.

This year, I’ve learned so many new things — that friendship can survive any geographical distance, that love is always patient and kind; that lust is nothing more than fleeting fire; that money for all its power is not a god; that work is not my life; that my time is not infinite; that dream and fantasy are not synonymous; that words can be more fatal than the most deadly of weapons; that loving makes us stronger even as it makes us more vulnerable; that pain is nothing less than an epiphany; that maturity is both a choice and a privilege; that imperfection is not a weakness; that change need not be spurred by cataclysm and vice versa; that those who claim to be realists were once disillusioned idealists; and more importantly, that in strange places and at surprisingly substantial amounts, magic still truly exists.

Yes, this year was a good year, don’t you think?

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