January-February. It was to be a culmination of everything that had been building up for the past six or so months. All the artifacts that belong to this period hint at such a belief. The scribbled calendars with each expiring day crossed out were a countdown to my departure, a transformation.
Ironically, this conjunction turned out to be a peripateia. Everything changed. Chaos ensued and habituation proved stronger. After a tumultuous fury, the desire to punish myself for having been excessively naïf and rash took hold. Whatever caused the collapse of the lofty edifice of what was to be my Washinton DC life, I held myself responsible. So began the punishment.
Like one of those early Christian martyrs, I isolated myself in a desert, a barren wasteland bereft of my comforts: the wailing the subway trains make upon their arrival at station; the endless marching crowds minding their own business; the ever-fastidious man decrying the sinfulness of our society and the need for redemption through Jesus; the vast arrays of racial colors; etc. To wit: San Francisco.
And by consequence of such an extreme reaction, I lost contact with many people from home. I regret it, but it had to be done. I needed to purge my self, to empty the vessel of the sordid.
Now, when I make contact with one of these lost but not forgotten people, I am always confronted with the “Where are you now? Last time I heard, you were in ….” I then proceed to downplay the erratic movements of the last year.
The dénouement to a tragic and ill-starred tale has been anticlimatic. It’s been much too quiet. I’ve read quite a bit! The 2 months and a half I dedicated to Remembrance of Things Past were fantastic. Perhaps the sadness would have ebbed away much sooner had I imbibed what works of Nietzsche remain for me to read. His writings are congenial to my self, they have the most salutary and positive effect on my mind. I am galvanized into action.
But now, it is time for me to return to the world I abandonned. Soon I shall return to school. To be honest, I am scared. I shall be surrounded by different, strange people that I have never met before, but the curriculum shall be the same. Perhaps my idealistic spirit will be able to succeed this time, undaunted by the heaviness and asphyxiating pessimism – a hatred for humanity – that is the essence of Christianity.