A few years ago, I elaborated upon my obsession with the number 17. Now that we're in the year 2017, I've been wanted to mark the occasion in some way, though I'm hard-pressed to do so. Allow me to explain:
For the last few years, I've set a broad, sometimes vaguely defined New Year's resolution. In 2015, I resolved to reconnect with old friends and acquaintances; the end result was, for lack of a more thorough explanation, a mixed bag. Last year I resolved to do things I've been putting off for too long; that was a relative success, though I'm now in a position where I'm overextended and maybe showing signs of burnout. Tentatively, my goal for 2017 is to de-clutter: I need to oversimplify, get rid of deadweight and unnecessary things, and figure out my priorities. Between a full time job and forcing myself through grad school, this will not be an easy task.
This August I will turn 33 years old. While I remind myself that age is a number, being a third of a century old is another reminder of my lurching mortality. I'm an adult, and I feel like an adult, but I keep thinking but that the "fun" years of my life are coming to a close. At lot of the aforementioned deadweight is leftover things, assorted remnants from my teens and 20s that I don't need to hold on to anymore. I'm not in a rush to move on per se, but it still feels like its holding me back.
Throughout the year, I'll be posting updates on my progress. Luckily, I'll make some progress selling old sports cards on eBay and cleaning out the back of my closet, and that's just the start of it.