I am large, I contain multitudes.
How strange it is to discover a side of yourself unknown until recently! It's absolutely fascinating to live such long lives, and still retrieve hidden secrets and desires.
Last Saturday, I went to Georgetown for the first time in about a month or so. The streets were still as crowded as ever and stylish shoppers swarmed the blocks, even though there was a rapture brewing. However, it was the season for change. There were new store layouts, new restaurants (such as Serendipity 3- coming soon!), and a new mussel dish at my favorite haunt (though I do not believe mussels with pomme frites should ever substitute for a deep cauldron of the stuff).
These minor changes left me wondering about the major changes that will occur to me in just a few months. I'll off to Montreal to further my french for three weeks in the summertime without my family, I'll finally enjoy a summer without the stresses of extracurricular, test preparations, work, etc, and, most notably, I'll be heading to college in the fall.
Will all these changes in turn change me and my limited scope of the world? It would be a tragedy if I returned from the journey as a carbon-copy of myself presently. The frightening aspect of change is its convoluted state. I'll never be sure which way the tide sways, how the change in my environs affect my reactions to certain situations, how my passion towards certain subjects will be collectively morphed and transitioned onto virgin territory.
Am I afraid of change? The question perfumes and lingers in my air. Part of me wants to say no, to dictate my emotions and remind my mind that change occurs in each millisecond we exist in our universe. Change can occur from the smallest particles in our atmosphere: a single rose, a manner of speech, a prick on the finger.
Yet is it plausible to surmise that change has no magnitude? That BIG changes have the same genetic makeup as minute shifts? Part of me disagrees. Major transitions test our limits and our character. To be off away from home will be, to put it dramatically, a crumbling of my preexisting world. No swings in the front yard, no leisurely Saturday mornings with my favorite cereal, no echo of dad's baritone over the newspaper or mom's syrupy voice beckoning me to dinner.
How will I simply survive?
Scientifically, a majority of species have undergo evolution. Homo sapiens would not exist had it not been for their ability to adapt. And in modern society, this sort of Darwinism still exists. I hope there is another element in me that diffuses any dramatic side-effects to such changes.
