Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

Changes  §

© Aron Hsiao

We are moving to Utah.

The Ph.D. is on hiatus. No, it’s not dead—not yet, anyway—but it has been reassigned in the priorities list and pushed off into the future. It is caught in suspended animation, against all odds, and contrary to all plans.

Instead, it is time to rethink: identity, futures, lifestyles, daytimes, nighttimes, locales, values, contexts, desires, even seasons.

— § —

There is a particular magic that hangs in the air in the fall in northern Utah. I haven’t felt it for a very, very long time. I am looking forward to feeling it again—mountain air carrying the scent of winter somewhere on the other side of the horizon even as days are sorted, throughout fall, into those that did frost and those that didn’t, measurable by observing the grass. (Yes, there will be grass.)

— § —

This spring and summer have been the most difficult of my life, and are likely to retain that title for a great many years to come. They have been a crucible, a space of continuous angst, a machinery for taking the measure of ongoing failure.

The failure at hand? Judgment.

No, vision wasn’t lacking, nor planning, nor effort, nor success. The academic record remains impeccable even as I struggle not to burn bridges with my departure. Progress was halting, but when it happened, it was of very high quality.

What was missing, however, was judgment. What was missing was the maturity to ask myself whether the life I was living was optimal for my own and my family’s needs and goals.

It wasn’t.

It all should have been organized in some other way.

It wasn’t.

Now it will be.

— § —

It has been a long time since my last post here and after this one I don’t know when, precisely, will occur my next post here.

Time, right now, has a fungible quantity about it; before arriving, whatever I am doing with my time might as well be something else that I’m doing with my time. Nothing apart from my family and our departure and arrival seem to hold any meaning at the moment.

Everything else is fantasy.

Everything else is a dream.

— § —

Goodbye, New York, 2011.

Hello again, Wasatch Front.

When last you saw me, I was a young fool. Now I’m coming back a veteran of untold wars, knowing at the same time now just how little of the world I know.

I think I can appreciate you now.

I am waiting to taste your mountain air.

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