one of the truly great things in my life.
And life is such a funny thing. When you’re in your early twenties, you think that not only do you know it all, but that you have every opportunity in front of you. And then you get a little bit older, not much older, but you hit thirty, and you realize that you know very little, and that opportunities haven’t come like you’d imagined them. I knew that I didn’t know shit when I was twenty, and thirty still snuck up on me.
I have a beautiful life. I live in an amazing city filled with amazing friends. I have a “career” job that’s mildly interesting, cheap rent, and a girlfriend that I absolutely and completely adore. Sometimes I wonder how I got to be so lucky.
At the same time, I wonder, “is this it?” Is this what someone is supposed to do in their 30s? Let their dreams fade in exchange for comfort and respectability? I don’t know. Truly, I have friends on both sides of the spectrum, and I haven’t a clue which is better. Both look appealing and appalling at the same time. The suburbs aren’t calling, and it’s nice to be able to go out for dinner, to afford decent beer.
I want more. I always have, but at this moment, I’m not even sure what that means. I’m not passionate about my job, but I enjoy it all the same. I’m good at it. I adore my friends, but even concerts and bars and madness gets stale after awhile. What else is there? I went fishing the other day, for the first time in a long time, and I caught the biggest fish of my life. Twice. Is this where I’m supposed to find my pleasure and fulfillment? Is this where I’m supposed to find solace, when my week isn’t going so well? I’m not sure that I’m ready to commit to that quite yet.
I used to want to be something, be anything, big. And while the terms of that may have shifted, I’m pretty sure the desire is still there. Isn’t it for all of us? The dream is making your mark on the world, of people knowing your name, or at least your work? I wonder what it means, when that starts to fade. Or when you have no idea how to accomplish it. Or what accomplishing it even means anymore.
I know I find satisfaction and comfort in things that I used to find boring. Is that growing up? Is that just getting old? I do know that I got up before the sun last weekend to get good seats at a soccer game. I sang and danced and screamed my lungs out for my adopted city’s team. I held the hand of a beautiful girl during all of it.
Maybe, and just perhaps, life isn’t a movie. Life is the moment. Those fantastic little moments that give you joy. That make you feel comfortable and happy and wanted and safe. Maybe life is just a song that builds and flows and ends with a crash, and none of it matters too much, because its just a song. But those notes, those moments that make you feel alive, maybe that’s what its all about.
I don’t have the answers, and I still struggle with it. But I know that filling my life with those moments is a beautiful thing. Maybe I’ll never write a novel, or open a brewery, but I think as long as I have those moments, I’m doing just fine.