what happened?
It’s been difficult to write anything for a while. I’d love to say it’s because I’ve been monumentally busy, but that’s just not true — scattered is more the word. Last night was harsh, I wavered between thinking too much and chiding myself for it (and old people and dorks are probably the only ones who use the word chiding, but I digress). There was a singular thought, a question that stayed with me.
“How did my life come to this?”
It’s really sort of bizarre. I mean, I spent a good deal of time while growing up in Fargo, wanting desperately to get out of there and to live in the city, any city. From the age of 16 to 21 my life consisted of school, listening to music, seeing live bands, talking about seeing live bands, reading books, and extensive drug use. For God’s sake, I used to think bleached white hair was attractive, a nice contrast to the black-as-night eyeliner, and compliment to my Army-Navy store wardrobe. For the record, Doc Martens are still the most comfortable boots ever made. In them, I went to grungy bars and drank myself senseless on a regular basis, while sporting The Skids and Minor Threat t-shirts and swooning over Glenn Danzig (yes, really — his morbidity scares the hell out of me now).
I went to college in Evanston, Illinois. Not a bustling urban mecca exactly, but not a corn field either. The fact that I actually graduated on time and maintained a commendable GPA speaks only to the resilience of youth. I had no concrete goals other than to do something I liked and to have fun. Yep, that really helps define job prospects. And for some reason I thought my life would always be like it was in my early 20′s, except with money.
Now? I am in Brooklyn but live on a street so quiet that it’s almost eerie, and our rocking neighborhood shuts down around 9pm. My idea of a great night is drinks or dinner with a friend. I avoid loud bars like the plague because I actually want to talk to the person I’m with; and often chat with the neighbors and coworkers about things like schools, 401(k) losses, and property values. I have a career where I am respected and am usually the first person at the office in the morning. This is hysterical! Don’t these people know that I’m a completely-irresponsible fuckup masquerading as an adult?
Here’s the thing. All this stuff is clanging around in my head last night and I’m panicking that it’s the verge of a pre-mid-life crisis, where I freak out and quit my job and drive across country and end up flying to Singapore and dying in a haze of opium. It could happen, I have always wanted to try opium.
What probably bothers me most is that in the midst of all these thoughts, I feel like I should have been pacing the cage like a wild animal. But I simply made tea and sat down to finish the umpteenth research paper this month.
I hope everyone feels like this and simply doesn’t enunciate it — or maybe its just me. Misfits walk among us indeed.
