Some things you just decide to keep the way they are, even things as tiny and inconsequential as the gchat status you settled on when writing the best and most important project of your high school career (though of course that project looks silly now; anything you wrote in November 2007 is going to look silly now; and I certainly don’t mean my Portrait because I was never all that proud of that; Pale Pale Fire on the other hand, oh). You keep it because the lemniscate never stops being important, never stops being meaningful, never stops being beautiful. And, to be perfectly honest, you keep it because there’s never anything worth changing it to.
So it may seem a small thing, but for the next three months there will be a number next to the lemniscate, a number that will slowly but steadily tick upward, because it corresponds to the word count of my BA, and I started writing—not just reading sources and making notes and writing outlines that I might or might not use, but actually, really writing—today. And there’s something pleasingly cyclical about it, when I’ve waded through all the work of the past few years and landed once more squarely in front of the most important project, the one to sum it all up.
Still. As much as I love reading these diaries and letters, I think the lemniscate will survive past this project. As I said, there’s nothing quite like it.