Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?

I was just getting used to 2008, and it's almost over. I can't say that I feel altogether disappointed to see this one go, though I rarely get sad watching the year pass; a few confrontations with mortality seemed to cure me of that malady. But, it is also always at this time that we see the real unfolding of human comedy. All the suffering (or none) that we bore, all the anxiety about relationships, community, family, friends that we faced throughout the year, resolved and forgotten, approved for storage in my already fuzzy memory. Isn't hindsight hilarious? The end of the year brings closure. It's funny though, because you can force things to be closed. I know a man who refuses to check his email past 1/1; if you sent him an email on 12/29, you better resend it because he only checks those that starts in the New Year.

But this troubles me a bit. Why am I not regretful that this year is past? To not be regretful means a lie: I have done everything right this year. It means that I fled rather than confronting. It means, essentially, that I have been in the background, an anesthetized spectator. I hope that I live a life full of regrets, but only those that stem from error, and not hesitation.

This year I will be an actor.