"Our solar system will go dark, permanently" -Dave Eggers

When Max learns that the sun will eventually stop shining
From Eggers' The Wild Things

A year ago, my grandpa called to give me very specific life advice: "I just wanted to tell you that you should never get a tattoo with a lover's name. Because well, you may fall out of love." As the sound waves of his words entered my auditory canal, I couldn't decide what to react to first. I was surprised that getting a tattoo isn't completely off the table, not to mention the fact that this person with traditional Indian marital values was implying that I am allowed to end a relationship if I fall out of love.

I have known my grandpa long enough to know that the former English teacher's advice was not to be taken at face value. He had practically created an allegory to remind me that a large part of adulthood is realizing the positive and negative consequences of your actions, and that they are permanent.

After dating him for a few years now, my friend recently broke up with her boyfriend. I've never been in one long enough, but I always assumed that at some point hopefully earlier than a two-year-mark, you just sort of "know" that a person is right for you. At a very general level, the breakup stemmed from the fact that she and he were of different religions and both wanted their future family to be their respective religion. As my friend told our group of friends the story and we dissected the most intricate nuances of the event (as is our duty and responsibility as females), one friend looked up puzzled. "But, why did this happen now? You have been of the same religion since Day 1." My friend nodded softly. "Yeah, well. We never really talked about this stuff. The permanent stuff." Forever is an intimidating conversation.

Two weeks ago as I was on my way to work, I was notified that I am a victim of credit card fraud. Someone was using a card in my name and withdrawing money from ATMs. After spending a few hours setting the stage to rectify the situation (it's a work in progress), I received another call. This time it was a prosecutor calling to let me know that the case of my stolen cell phone would be going to trial. "You'll need to come in to testify for a second time. This time it will be for a jury." By the end of our conversation, I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West ("I'm mellltttiiiinngg!"). Between the cell phone and my credit card, I felt a heaviness in my chest. I just want all of this to go away, I thought. I want a fresh start, like a new semester in college. 

Last Tuesday, I spent the entire day sick to my stomach. I couldn't eat or drink anything. And while I knew the reason for my illness, I was shocked at the psychosomatic nature of it. When I finally got home, I texted a friend. "I can't eat or drink anything. Breathing also feels weird. I'm so nervous about launching this book." She FaceTimed me immediately (FaceTime Use Case #1). "What are you nervous about? Plenty of people have read this already. I've read it four times." "But once I do," I responded, "It'll be out in the world permanently." I shuddered at the thought. "Come on, press the button!" She encouraged. At first, I was confused at my nervousness around releasing another packet of information into the world. From Twitter to Facebook to this blog, I'm already on display.

Soon, the reason for my nervousness became less confusing: this was the first "permanent" thing I was releasing into the world. I'll delete a Tweet as much as the next guy. Sometimes I hide things from my Facebook Timeline. I often lament the fact that I can't delete an instagram from a web browser. But with a physical, printed book, lines and their in-betweens will be read and reread infinitely. As my seventh grade English teacher once explained, "Fiction is one of the coolest concepts out there. Every single time someone opens the book cover, a world is reborn and events are experienced again. It truly is, forever." He must have used "cool" from the point of the view of the reader. "Frightening" is the correct word from the point of view of an author.

If you are even remotely involved in the world of technology startups, you've probably heard of the lean startup methodology. In a nutshell, the process is one that encourages entrepreneurs to build scrappy prototypes, test them with real customers, then make changes as needed. It's all about "failing fast" so you don't waste time building something that nobody wants. This is the perfect process for technology.

As I reflect on my desire to have hardships "just go away" and my nervousness around "something permanent," I am considering the possibility that our generation's immersion in technology is preventing us from "growing up" and thwarting our ability to accept permanence. Every now and then, take a moment to remind yourself that your actions in that moment, no matter how trivial, are actually quite permanent. They already are, but taking the time to recognize it will help wean you back to accepting it. If you ask me, this is the only way that we as individuals can find people and opportunities that are best for us and we as society can move towards a world of better decision-making, meaningful actions, and impactful change. Because after all, change is the only permanent thing in this world.