"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." -Albert Einstein

There is very little in this world of which we can be sure. On top of this, as I grow older, I feel less and less sure of things. Uncertainty used to scare me, but its increased presence in my life has forced me to appreciate it.

My eighth grade math teacher had one steadfast rule: No excessive celebration. She was one of those teachers who would grade your exam in front of you the moment you handed it in to her. Within earshot of the rest of the class, she would then comment on your performance. You can probably infer this, but let me be clear -- the process was extremely stressful especially for those of us whose chances of success were grim. So, if against all odds, one were to perform decently on an exam, sighs of relief, yelps of glee, or songs of victory seemed like appropriate reactions. On one occasion, I was still taking the exam when one of my classmates chose the yelping method. Our teacher was less than pleased, but not because he was disrupting the test takers. No excessive celebration!! This is just one exam. You never know what can happen. Stop now or I'll lower your grade. That my friends, is what we call glass half empty.

Sure, there is a lot to be uncertain about, but for ten years, my Thursday Piano Lesson wasn't one of them. No matter what. Even on Thanksgiving. So you can imagine my delight when, once in a blue moon, my piano teacher would announce travel plans. The way she did it, however, was exceptionally morbid and only solidified my fear of the unknown. If I'll still be here, I'm going to Italy next month. If I will survive, your first lesson after I'm home will be August 4. I should probably mention that she is a healthy woman in her late-forties.

I'm one of those people who likes to be sure, or at least as sure as possible. I function by finding bits of certainty in the vacuum of uncertainty. As we were exiting my tenth grade English class the day before finals, I stopped to ask my teacher about the unit we would be starting after exam period. One of my classmates looked at me, shocked. How can you ask about that? I can't think past this test. I found it impossible not to think past the test. Yeah, I didn't know much about it, but it would happen, and life as usual would continue.

A couple days ago, I happened upon this article which provides the "character traits" of us 20-somethings. I found it to be surprisingly applicable, and one in particular jumped out at me: "You consider all your life options still open." It criticizes youth for our biased thought process. But if we can't be sure about the future, we may as well be optimistic about it, right? I recognize the importance of being realistic, practical, and cognizant that things may not always go the way you had hoped. But none of this is synonymous with pessimism.

This past Thursday, I had a conversation with my parents about various aspects of my future. I threw out some dates, some projected timelines. They were haphazard and largely unnecessary. In a sudden philosophical musing, my dad cautioned, You can't plan everything. Just, go with it. See what happens.

I'm realizing that sometimes, you just have to jump. A 2009 article in Time introduced Google Wave as an "insanely useful app" and "Google's best shot at a ubiquitous mainstream product since Google Maps in 2005." The article is extremely positive, concluding with the statement, "It's not clear yet which way Wave is going to go. But it's definitely going places." Fast forward ten months to the shut down of Google Wave. Google commented on its blog, "Wave has taught us a lot, and we are proud of the team for the way sin which they have pushed the boundaries of computer science." It was unclear how people would react to this novel form of communication, but it was a good experiment, nonetheless. Worth the attempt, despite the uncertainty (I must admit, I was a fan at the outset).

This weekend, I decided on a whim to renovate my room, which has remained largely untouched since we moved in nineteen years ago. Off with the wallpaper, out with the furniture, out with the pink paint. To be completely honest, I don't know where the project is going. I only know that the possibilities are endless (within the confines of four walls, of course).

You won't always be completely sure of things. But don't let that stop you from attempting. From experimenting. From believing. Most importantly, don't let that stop you from being sure of yourself.