It’s one of those times when you feel like you should be doing something other than what you’re doing. When you find yourself disappointed over something that didn’t come out of the blue, that didn’t especially surprise you in its happening, yet find yourself a bit melancholy over the reality of it. When everything makes sense, and yet you wished, just for once, that it didn’t. That things didn’t happen the way you expected them.

Welcome to 2003, year of very few surprises.

I was optimistic nearly 365 days ago, thinking that THIS would be the year to [fill in blank.] THIS year I would do more, see more, be more. I’d be startled out of my pessimistic view of life by something completely unexpected that delighted me to the core. And with less than 36 hours to go, I’m sad to say that this wasn’t the case.

That’s not to say that this year wasn’t a good one – on the contrary. New, fabulous friends have come into my life, new cities were explored, new roommates acquired, and through it all, much fun was had. Despite the broken arm, despite the confusion over life and love and fate and folly, I would give this year a solid B+. Yet, like an undergrad surprised by acing his midterms, I secretly wished for the unexpected, the stuff that sappy romance movies are made of.

I sometimes wonder how others view me, how they view my life. Do they, do you, think I’m optimistic? Do you think I’m jaded? Do I complain, whine, over-analyze too much? Am I cynical, or am I just a typical twenty-something pondering the every-day occurrences that will somehow lead me to the future that we all are too afraid to hope for, but do anyway?

As my friends and family around me are moving on, making life-changing decisions in their lives, I find myself in an emotional quicksand of sorts, remaining stuck to one place & not going much of anywhere. Like a kid being picked last for kickball, I often feel that I’m standing on the sidelines, mentally wishing “pick me! pick me!” while my friends find boyfriends and girlfriends who become husbands and wives and are now beginning to have children while I scuff the asphalt in my Velcro-purple Kangaroo tennies and look to the ground, ashamed that I’m still not yet picked for a team.

Sarah Brown postulates that “that for almost every single person on the planet, there’s this one sentence, and that almost every single person on the planet believes that if this one sentence was said to them by the right person at the right place or at the right time or with the right words, everything the person longed for would come true, and their life would right itself, or start an entirely new and glorious path, and they’d finally be happy.” While this can lead you into dangerous territory (the quintessential “I’ll be happy when…” statements), I tend to agree that most of us have the secret romanticized notion that even the smallest sentence can right all the wrongs. It’s the “You Complete Me” theory of life, and while I hate to admit it, I, too, long for the unexpected.

I believe in Karma, as I mentioned before, and that every pot has its lid. Through trial and heartbreak, I’ve learned the folly of deeming someone “The Love of your Life” until you actually find that person, because next thing you know, the Love of your Life has found the Love of HIS life and is now married with children. I’ve learned to doubt the existence of “The One”, because often times, a result of death or divorce, you find someone equally as magical and wonderful as “The One”, thus disproving the theory that we only find true love once in our lives. I’m open to magic, open to mystery, open to delighting in everything that you thought would never really happen. I think that Good begets Good, that doing the right thing isn’t always fun but will lead to the best outcome most of the time, and that finding the perfect person is about acknowledging their imperfections.

And yet with 2004 just a day or so away, I can’t shake the thought that I’m watching everyone play on the playground while I swing on the swing-set, alone, head tilted back and just looking at the sky, looking for what will be around the next corner.