Tomorrow at 6:30 am Beirut time, I will be thirty years old.
Yes, thirty years. Wrapping up my third decade is an event I never eagerly anticipated. And I still don't. It does come-forgive me for stating the obvious-in a timely fashion, though.
At a time when a million different thoughts are racing through my mind, while very little is actually being done, I cannot but appreciate a wake up call, one that forces me to shake off the dust of paralysis, and turn deep, largely fruitless thoughts, into a product, the nature of which is not necessarily defined.
The overwhelming majority of my life has been punctuated by thoughts and thought experiments, most of which were fleeting and ephemeral at best. The concretization of any of them was a remarkably uncommon occurence. Maybe were they too ambitious and I was too relunctant and too scared to take them any further, maybe I was merely satisfied with the thought process itself, and its abstract realization in a conjectural universe of my own creation, or maybe I am just another idiot savant, a wannabe genius, a bird on a cloud, a dreamer.
Or even better, maybe everything I have ever thought of is worthless. And maybe I am too.
It is a well-documented fact that most thinkers and scientists have their greatest and most intense revelations in their mid-twenties, when they're at the heights of their intellectual creativity and prolificacy. It saddens me to see that these days seem to have gone past me and that I am still right about where I was when I first started.
It also saddens me that, while sometimes I seem to inhale and exhale poetry, I have merely published a single, meager book that doesn't even come close to all that I have to say.
The same goes for painting. And science. And philosophy. And literature. Nothing.
I can clearly see what the romans did to torture their enemies, attach their arms and legs to two horse carriages going in opposite directions, and watch them as they were atrociously pulled to pieces.
As I am stranded to all these different horses, my entire being is torn apart, while I am unshakably anchored to my starting block.
My only chance is to somehow make all my horses curve their space of motion and move in one common direction, towards a common end point.
The day I find out what this common end point is will be my new birthday, my true birthday, and the first day of my life as I have always envisioned it to be.