Ghosts

I called my old college today in order to update my information for the upcoming alumni book.

Of course they wanted me to buy it, which will be two payments of $40 or a CD of $25. I declined.

The experience was a very uncomfortable one, partly because I once again had to admit to someone that a person with a Bachelor's Degree was working in a factory, and partly because it made me realize that I'm at a very different place in my life than I was when I attended the school.

In many ways, I'm still the same old mixed up guy who feared graduation and emergence into the "real world"; it's just that I'm that same guy over twenty years later. And the longer it takes for me to discover and act upon some notion of who I really am and what I really want, the harder it will be to find a place in the world and the shorter amount of time I'll have to cultivate and enjoy it.

I pat myself on the back for getting minor things accomplished and making incremental life progress every day, but none of it seems like it's moving fast enough. Meanwhile, my life just continues to rocket by at warp speed, the past receding quickly into the jet trail behind me and the future getting smaller and smaller in front of me. You really can't afford to procrastinate at middle age. You end up waking up one day and realizing that you've procrastinating yourself right out of a life.

So I dream my dreams and make my safe and considered plans and hope whatever good things remain in my life can be held onto as I try to move forward. There's no magic key or incantation that can unlock me from my fear and uncertainty; the only thing I can really seem to do is try to balance day to day survival and not give up on something better in the process.

It's difficult. It's like walking on two simultaneous tracks; one that's screaming at me that I'm dying inside and I need to wake up and make some major changes soon, and another that's reminding me how hard changes are for me and what limited resources I have to make those changes. I can't sell my house, get a new job that pays better and is more stimulating while holding onto the sense of security I've built up in the last few years. It's taken me so long to finally feel like I've constructed a tiny world that makes sense and that I can call my own, one that I can manage and live with. To risk losing that is terrifying but at my age it's really the only way to have any hope of being not just safe and OK, but truly fulfilled and happy.


For a long time after my mom died I just assumed I'd run on fumes for a bit then kind of gradually fade away. Who knows, that may still end up happening. But it seems like that would be a waste in so many ways. I wasn't born into this world to simply exist for a few decades then fade away; I was born, like everyone else, for a purpose. It may very well be a small and unremarkable purpose, but it is nonetheless MY purpose and I have an obligation to not only find it but to act upon it once I do find it.

I just wish that that process was easier and that I had gotten serious about it long before I did. But ultimately, there's no percentage in rehashing what has already been. What is done is done and cannot be undone. I did what I did for reasons that seemed right at the time and like everyone else I have no crystal ball to chart my course.

If only I knew what I know now twenty years ago. But then again, one can say that for one's whole life I suppose. Our wisdom is always playing catchup to our experiences.

Tomorrow is, as custom, another day.