iffageek falls

As promised, some musings on mortality, and accomplishment. A tad morbid, horrifyingly rough, but eh... Whaddayagonnado? I'm pretty sure that the reunion was last month, but it could have been longer. It took this long for even this to come out. I'm sure that there's a lot more lurking, but hopefully it'll grow and shape itself a little better than this one did before oozing out over a page.

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The mingled dread and horror grows as I slowly fail to not realize that no matter how much I wish it otherwise, I will soon have been out of High School for ten long years.

Undoubtedly, I am not who (or what) I envisioned myself growing up to be at the time. Thank goodness for small miracles, I suppose. Things that I thought were important then, aren’t now, and there are many things that I wish I had looked for along the way.

I can’t say that I’m not happy, because in many ways (and as difficult as some of the last few years have been), I am. Am I satisfied with what I have accomplished? Of course not. I know that I probably won’t be satisfied ten or even twenty years from now, no matter what I accomplish in the mean time, simply because it is my nature to constantly question. I suppose that I probably am less sure now than I was ten years ago exactly what I want out of life.

What can I say about the intervening years? I certainly enjoyed myself immensely at times. I also made some pretty poor choices, based on completely arbitrary reasons – or so it seems now, looking back. I’ve heard so many people say, “I had some rough times, but I wouldn’t change them if I could, because they made me what I am today.” I call bull. Well, I suppose some of those people are sincere, but looking back, I am constantly struck by how blind I often was to the opportunities and choices that were always around, and I am constantly amazed that I made it this far by seeming chance alone, as it certainly wasn’t the result of intelligent decision making.

What would have happened? What should I have done differently? Dear God, WHY did I choose to say that? All good, yet ultimately meaningless questions. So why do I ask them again and again, torturing myself with repeated viewings of some of the most painful moments of my life? (See preceding statement…)

I realize, as I sit at a crossroads of my own making (but not, perhaps in a manner I would have chosen, had I thought about it first), that despite all of my questions, all of my vaunted insight, I have no real answers.

Having pushed myself away from something which has yet to prove empty, meaningless calories or intriguing, nutritious snack, I have at least managed to stumble out of the Food Court and on with life. Sort of…. While I can vaguely see the large flashing sign with the words “You Are Here” printed on it, waving precariously above my head, I’m still frantically searching the directory for the “Ultimate HappyFun Destination-Place.” Would that be under “Department Store” or “Specialty Boutique”? Wait a minute! K334? The map only shows letters up to E. There’s no G, or H, much less K, or even WTF!!!

So, staggering in random directions, caroming off of disgusted people with direction, with purpose in their tile-gobbling strides, I try to ignore the fact that I have no idea where I’m going and hope that one of the stores I aimlessly limp past will have a two-for-one special on “life changing epiphanies.”

What have I learned in the ten long years since high school? I know that given the smallest chance, I’ll make a HUGE fool out of myself. I know that I like to write, but that I’ll make excuses to avoid the chance of failure. I have learned that the more I learn, the less I KNOW.

I have, at most, a year to find my ultimate job, my one true answer to life’s eternal question, “What have you done with the chances I have given you?” …or I have to come up with a really great lie, that sounds convincing when yelled over music I didn’t even like THEN, to someone I vaguely remember, as we both try to juggle some celery sticks and chicken on a paper plate in one hand, a wineglass just waiting for a conversational lull in the other, while trying not to forget that punch line just waiting for the carefully orchestrated setup to pay off.

~m, 10/2004