I was being born. Sort of. I was actually born at 9:30pm, or thereabouts, but I'm not going to be posting tomorrow night I doubt. So. I post now. Being, as I am, thirty.
If you had asked me at age 18 if I thought I would be where I am today? I wouldn't have believed you, I don't imagine. There's a lot I would do differently, of course, if I had it to do over. I think that's true of a lot of folks, especially at this stage in their lives. But I don't actually -want- to do any of it over. Which is probably a good sign.
I've got a good job at which I am successful and promotable. Hooray. I am making more, now, than I ever thought I would. I have a nice car, a nice apartment, a nice computer, a nice TV. I have nice stuff. But it's not really the stuff that makes all of this worthwhile. It's the little things, naturally. Being able to fly Willow out here and not sweat my budget. Being able to give The Monster a good birthday on short notice. So on and so forth. Trips to the shore, trips to the national aquarium. Stuff I never could have done a year ago, or two years ago, or three years ago.
The next ten years of my life I want to spend doing something with my money apart from paying my bills off and fixing my credit and so on. I want to buy land. Develop it with a house. Something green and sensible. Squirrel some away for a rainy day. On the one hand I feel like a total corporate sell-out. The long hair is gone, the hippy mentality has deteriorated as fancifully impractical. But the progressive liberalism? That's remained. And the attendant liberal guilt? That's remained, too.
So I'm locked in the system, yeah. And the system is working well for me, sure. But I'd like to break out of that system in the next ten years. Because I really don't want to be doing this sort of work for the rest of my life. In fact, I don't really want to work in this sense for the rest of my life. I'm good at it, and I make a hell of a lot of money at it, but it's not what I want or need. Right now it's what I have to do, and I enjoy doing it. But it's not what I want for myself.
So. Looking back on the writer at 18, and imagining what that kid would say looking forward to the writer at 30? I don't think he'd be too happy with the end results. But that's life. You can't all be comedians, and rockstars, and actors, and artists. Someone, in the end of it all, has to sell the cellphones. For better or for worse, that's me. And every so often, when I'm making my customers bust up laughing, or when I'm able to make really intelligent conversation with a customer that happens to be liberal leaning? I can enjoy my work for its resemblance to what I always wanted to do with my life. And, depending on the lighting, resent it for what it isn't.
So, yeah. That's life, I suppose. And mine's quite a nice one, as lives go. But it's still missing a rudder in the water. The engine's on full, but it's got no rudder. And that's what I want to do with the next ten years. Make this momentum mean something. Rather than just being momentum for momentum's sake. Rather than just making money so buy things that I don't really need. I am fully aware of the trap of consumerism. And that's where full engines and zero steerage takes you. The path of least resistance in our culture is to spiral down its throat and die in its belly.
So, no. Not me, thanks. At least not yet.
Current Mood: pensive