Me, Three (Point) Oh

I was in New York, taking the train back to the airport before flying home. The whole trip I had kinda been wondering, "Where am I?" Yeah, sure the subway can disorient you something fierce and do strange things to your mind, but my physical location wasn't in doubt. I think my mental location was - the trip I had been feeling half a step removed from reality. Like the world was coated in a single, eternal sheet of plastic wrap. Wherever I was, I just wasn't quite... there.

Then a peculiar thought found me: "My presence has been conspicuously absent from my own life".

Hm, yes, this had all the makings of a grand philosophical and existential quandary, if a bit self-absorbed and pretentious. The idea itself was, of course and frankly, dumb. But it followed me through check-in, sat next to me on the plane, and followed me all the way home.

I guess I'm a person of constraints, almost to a fault. You could probably say that I'm predictable and never unexpected. My spirit animal is white, sliced bread.

I go to work, I save for retirement, I pay taxes. I drive home and eat the same 4-5 meals over and over again, then I do a varied mixture of practicing an instrument, watching/playing the show/game that's in season, or puttering away on some uninspired freelance work. Every other week I get groceries and fill up the car. I check my budget and mind my finances, and do it all again. Ever onward to... Somewhere.

I have more routine than not, I think. And to be honest, there's a lot of good ol' comfort inside that bubble of safety. You don't gotta think much, just keep trudgin' along the track.

Over the course of my birthday, my mom sent me a bunch of photos she dug up of me as a kid. It really made me wonder... What would he think of me? Maybe he'd be happy that I have a good job and have not one, but two cars (fun fact: when I was little I had a breakdown where I was certain I'd never ever make enough money to buy a car). I got a degree, and even spent a year of my education far away in a big American city. I know how to play a couple instruments, I'm in decent physical shape, I have a computer that can play any game I want, and I even have a Lego kit bigger than my brother's Deep Freeze Defender. I'd like to think that my young self thought I turned out alright.

What about the other end of the spectrum, what would my deathbed-self think about me now? No girlfriend. Working lots, accomplishing little. Saving lots, maybe too much. I haven't travelled off the continent, I'm not taking my mandolin lessons seriously. I have no mortgage, no spouse, no kids. I live inside my routine. I'm a bit too introverted, and don't pursue new experiences. I have a small social circle, and I'm afraid to talk to girls. I waste too much time on the computer. My budget dictates how I live.

Would my future self think that I've wasted my 20's? I don't have any grand perspective yet, but I already kinda feel that way. I spent those prime years studying hard, working hard, and saving hard. I've been productive, but I haven't done much in the way of living.

Basically, I've cracked open my standard-issue Human ration of self-doubt. I'm sure everyone goes through some flavour of this uneasiness once they hit certain milestones. I once told myself that I was never going to be so self-conscious about my age, but then I got older.

I think things have compounded by the murky puddle of ennui I find myself wading through right now. I don't have anything in particular to look forward to (in comparison to, say, when I was in school). I haven't been... failing at anything. I guess that's a symptom of fearing the world - I've been playing my life really safe and avoiding challenges. Following the rules and best practices, but at the same time completely missing out on those spicy opportunities that add flavour to life. I feel like I'm doing everything "right", and nothing memorable.

In the grand scheme of things, we'll all be scattered atoms in a few billion years when the sun decides to blow itself up. What will even the most influential legacy mean when there's no planet left for it to live on? I could be an old solitary man with a healthy retirement fund, or a strung-out rockstar. Do your life right, or do it wrong. In the end, there's absolutely no difference.

But I still want to do make the most of things, whatever that may look like. It seems to me that I've hit of a peak in my life; sure, the view's great, but I'm not really movin' anywhere at the moment. I need a valley. I need a little momentum.

Things need to change, and they will change. One day at a time.

One thing the younger me would be disappointed in was that I still don't have any idea what's going on. But that's alright. Where would be the fun in that?
-Cril

Ophelia, she's 'neath the window for her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday she already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic she wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion, her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking into Desolation Row

Bob Dylan - Desolation Row