The more things change, the more things stay the same. It's a nostalgic night in a new town that doesn't feel new to me at all anymore; hasn't felt new for months. We value our memories but they are at their most vivid on paper. Sometimes they are so powerful we don't want to taint or forgive them with our words.
Many of my free hours are spent: applying for better jobs; exploring and adventuring; reading; laughing at the randomness constantly happening all around me; writing; struggling to not completely despise everything I write; struggling to make sense of my place in the world; struggling to understand motivations, people, politics, society, and deceptively basic concepts like empathy and love; drinking bottom-shelf whiskeys and cheap beers; listening to the depressing sorts of music that make me so happy; and shining lights on the dark regions of my mind.
Three years ago, I took it to heart when a co-worker supported me during a conversation, when she told me: "You are young enough to fail." At 25, it still applies. I've taken risks. Many have been fruitful. Most have been utter failures. All of them have paid off in one way or another. I don't know if, at the core, I'm still the same James Jackson I was the day I drove out of Ohio, but I like to think that I am. But it's not like we're the same.
Here we carry on at the crossroads of a new, familiar dawn.
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