I bought a new journal last year. I’ve since moved on to another, since the first is now falling apart at the spine, it having been filled up with thoughts from a year, flapped open and closed again and again, and thrown not-so-gently to the bottom of backpacks and purses.

Well, as you may know or not know, or as you may have read in the title, today is August 1, 2009.

The first page of my journal (always an exciting place, a first beautifully blank page, so many yet to come, exciting and daunting):

The date (in very big, expecting, loopy letters):


The year of Megan begins (!). What would you do if you knew you could not fail?

And then I plather on in a very delirious and excited state about being in the airport in LA, and then being in the airport in Miami, and then being on a plane flying over Cuba, and then being on a plane that is actually going to land in big, scary Nicaragua.

I don’t know why I dubed last year ‘the year of Megan’ (sounds rather silly now… aren’t all my years, ‘years of Megan’? Or maybe not…?) But, dubbing it so on August 1, 2008 makes August 1, 2009 rather depressing. I don’t know why today deserves any retrospect, or why it should mark any sort of day or year at all. After all, years and days and lives don’t so much abide by neat calendar divisions. But, I enjoy how a year looks floating in my mind, chunky and defined, especially a neat year of Spanish-speaking, backpack-weilding travel and adventure. I don’t really enjoy that the perfect floating year in my mind ends today (even though it doesn’t really).

I tend to be nostalgic, which is annoying. (To quote comedian Demetri Martin, “I remember when I was into nostalgia.”) But, this is what I’m thinking about today, so I’ll go ahead and write it down, even if it is annoying… Last year, on August 1, I was on a plane and then I was not on a plane, I was in the customs line scared shitless that I was going to have to confront Managua alone, and then the Paxeos shuttle man waited for me and the lady kept my room reserved at the hostel and waited up for me, and everything was great, relief. And then I woke up and stumbled out of  bed and into the market of Granada (helloooo third world) in search of coffee, which I found only after 20 minutes of sweat and ‘what the hell have I gotten myself into’ and then I wandered around Granada, alone and sort of over-stimulated and sort of bored. Today, I woke up and had a giant bowl of granola and fruit and yogurt (my favorite things in all the land) and drank fresh coffee right there waiting for me. I’m writing at a lovely desk, snuggled under  a blanket with a blond doggie close and hand, and it’s warm and pleasant and summertime. Tonight, I shall go to dinner and out with great friends and maybe even have a beer at a bar.

So, good things on both ends of this year, August 1 to August 1. I guess I’m just wondering how to find continuity, but it’s already there, and ultimately it probably just finds you.


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