At 18, I had it all planned out what life at 25 was going to be like: I was going to be living on my own, I was going to be gainfully employed, I was going to be with the girl I would wind up with, and I was going to be on my way to setting myself up for the rest of life. Oh, and I wrote a shitty young adult novel.
At 20, things were all going to plan. I was on my way to the degree, I had just started seeing a girl I couldn't deny feeling was "the one". I was just missing the job, the apartment, and was cocky that my real life would start in the next 2 years.
At 22, I had the degree, I still had the girl, but that was the slippery slope where the momentum and traction didn't keep me up. I was living in a basement, with my girlfriend. The only thing missing in the trifecta that signified the failure of life was the unwanted pregnancy. The lack of a job started to get to me. No one really tells you that an English degree is pretty much worthless. Yeah, you can dissect Wordsworth and Faulkner with the best of them, but you have a piece of paper that cant get you a job anywhere, but I was keeping it together, and it all slipped out bit by bit.
At 24, it the plan was all shot to shit. There was no job, there were internships. Internships where I had to pay to get to work, and then a slightly better internship of which I'm presently at. I get a title, and i get my travel comped. I guess it's the stepping stone I need. I feel strangely optimistic, and hopefully in not the same 18-year old one. I'm still living at home, and I'm still in the basement, and it still drives me nuts. I feel like I'm 16 again, and now there's a slight difference:the girl, the girl quite frankly just wasn't the one, and it got messy. It's all part of the journey I suppose. The big difference is that I'm starting to seriously invest in myself. I'm seriously investing in my writing (see this). I don't know. 24 may be the year that leads me to the rest of my life, in a way that is better than i imagined.
0 comments:
Post a Comment