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The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, its tides and its depths; it has its pearls too.

When I was in elementary school, I was pretty sure that eighth grade meant adulthood. The eighth graders were the oldest kids in the school, and their classroom was down a long hallway. I pictured the hallway as a golden path to the future. I was sure the eighth graders had it all figured out. Later, I extended that to the high school seniors, then the college seniors, then, people who were 25. Now, finally, I can see that there is no moment in life when it all makes sense. Nor is there any real marker that someone DOES know what the fuck’s going on – an engagement or a house does not mean that someone feels complete and content. At 27, I can talk to my parents and see that while they’ve done a lot of amazing things with their lives, there are still doubts and insecurities that they’re holding on to and trying to make sense of. Answers don’t come with age. Age provides perspective, but life wasn’t designed with a point at which it definitively gets easier. It’s up and down, all the time, for everyone. We’re just doing our best, all of us, and that’s ok.

‘Live each day as if it’s your last’, that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn’t practical. Better by far to be good and courageous and bold and to make a difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance.

Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again.

The most extreme example of the way English doesn’t always sound the way it’s written is the made-up word ghoti. In theory, this could be pronounced ‘fish’, using ‘gh’ as in rough, ‘o’ as in women, and ‘ti’ as in mention.