Thursday, June 09, 2005
Oh, the places you'll go!
It's one of those really great summer nights when it's warm and humid and there's a thunderstorm off in the distance. I was just walking around the neighborhood watching the lightning and I'm in a reflective mood.
Here's the thing: it's 2005 (or 2004 as I typed the first time). I have many friends from high school who have now graduated from college. They now have lives and careers. Most of them have pretty much "moved on," as people are wont to do four or more years after high school. And me? My life is not that different than it was back then, the main thing being that I mostly support myself financially and have an apartment. I realized recently that I currently have almost no friends whom I didn't know in high school. I haven't really made any good friends in the past four years.
And that's fine, except that one by one, they "move on." They go away and have careers and lives. They stop e-mailing you. They don't call you; you call them. And if you're me, you get paranoid that they think of you as a relic; at best, an interesting fossil from days of yore. This isn't really their fault. There's a lot of pressure on everybody to "go places." And the problem I've found is that nearly all the people I've known who are "going places" have ended up finally going to those actual places.
So for the last few years I've been straddling a line between "going places" and "staying rooted." It's a heartbreaking dilemma. And now, finally, while my old acquaintences get their bachelor's degrees, the trauma of my own indecisiveness is starting to sink in.
Going places. Nothing's more depressing than somebody who could potentially do great things, but just doesn't. Either by their own volition or by external forces, they just never accomplish anything. When I imagine myself ten years down the road still driving buses at the University of Iowa, I want to whimper and flail. Every day that goes past makes me feel more like a six-year-old at the municipal pool, wearing Water Wings, terrified of the deep end and eyeing the high dive with severe trepidation. Yet the times I've ventured to strange and unusual places outside of my town have been very invigorating and successful.
And yet, Staying rooted. I won't lie: I am actually quite content right now. I do have a pretty good base of semi-permanent friends in Iowa City, and I've had few problems with being bored. At least, few problems that can't be alleviated by frequent vacationing. And there's a lot to be said for being mellow and easygoing. This sounds like a lot of excuses, and to a certain extent it is. But a big part of the issue is also this: I don't really know if I'm capable of going places. This may be just my characteristic self-doubt, but let's remember that I did actually trying "going places." Immediately after high school I boldly left home and went to college in New Mexico. The result was that I did okay in my classes but was basically miserable and almost friendless. The fact is that I don't do well, I don't do well at all when I'm not in my element. And my element is a good one. I like my current life, which allows me to live in a great community and earn money providing a service for this community. I don't work too hard and I prowl the summer nights and watch distant thunderstorms, and run into friends on the street.
Looking at this now, one can see that it can be distilled as a conflict between the long-term and the short-term goals. Lately I think I've been more sympathetic to the long-term option, having registered for full-time classes in the fall, with the intention of getting a degree and maybe then "going places." Still, lord knows I have my doubts that it will work. And part of me wonders if there's some kind of compromise possible between the long-term and the short-term. I think there's a cultural mind-set that makes people obsessed with the concept of destination. Gotta find a place to settle! Gotta have kids and live happily ever after! Gotta move out to the suburbs and work until I either retire or get killed, along with dozens of other sleepy commuters, in a diasterous freeway accident! I don't care for that. I want to travel, and take fragrant paths of opportunity where and when they open up. Here's an oft-quoted piece of Tolkein wisdom: "Not all who wander are lost."
Well, I'm not sure what, if anything, I've just proved. It's now very late, and I'm going to bed.
Here's the thing: it's 2005 (or 2004 as I typed the first time). I have many friends from high school who have now graduated from college. They now have lives and careers. Most of them have pretty much "moved on," as people are wont to do four or more years after high school. And me? My life is not that different than it was back then, the main thing being that I mostly support myself financially and have an apartment. I realized recently that I currently have almost no friends whom I didn't know in high school. I haven't really made any good friends in the past four years.
And that's fine, except that one by one, they "move on." They go away and have careers and lives. They stop e-mailing you. They don't call you; you call them. And if you're me, you get paranoid that they think of you as a relic; at best, an interesting fossil from days of yore. This isn't really their fault. There's a lot of pressure on everybody to "go places." And the problem I've found is that nearly all the people I've known who are "going places" have ended up finally going to those actual places.
So for the last few years I've been straddling a line between "going places" and "staying rooted." It's a heartbreaking dilemma. And now, finally, while my old acquaintences get their bachelor's degrees, the trauma of my own indecisiveness is starting to sink in.
Going places. Nothing's more depressing than somebody who could potentially do great things, but just doesn't. Either by their own volition or by external forces, they just never accomplish anything. When I imagine myself ten years down the road still driving buses at the University of Iowa, I want to whimper and flail. Every day that goes past makes me feel more like a six-year-old at the municipal pool, wearing Water Wings, terrified of the deep end and eyeing the high dive with severe trepidation. Yet the times I've ventured to strange and unusual places outside of my town have been very invigorating and successful.
And yet, Staying rooted. I won't lie: I am actually quite content right now. I do have a pretty good base of semi-permanent friends in Iowa City, and I've had few problems with being bored. At least, few problems that can't be alleviated by frequent vacationing. And there's a lot to be said for being mellow and easygoing. This sounds like a lot of excuses, and to a certain extent it is. But a big part of the issue is also this: I don't really know if I'm capable of going places. This may be just my characteristic self-doubt, but let's remember that I did actually trying "going places." Immediately after high school I boldly left home and went to college in New Mexico. The result was that I did okay in my classes but was basically miserable and almost friendless. The fact is that I don't do well, I don't do well at all when I'm not in my element. And my element is a good one. I like my current life, which allows me to live in a great community and earn money providing a service for this community. I don't work too hard and I prowl the summer nights and watch distant thunderstorms, and run into friends on the street.
Looking at this now, one can see that it can be distilled as a conflict between the long-term and the short-term goals. Lately I think I've been more sympathetic to the long-term option, having registered for full-time classes in the fall, with the intention of getting a degree and maybe then "going places." Still, lord knows I have my doubts that it will work. And part of me wonders if there's some kind of compromise possible between the long-term and the short-term. I think there's a cultural mind-set that makes people obsessed with the concept of destination. Gotta find a place to settle! Gotta have kids and live happily ever after! Gotta move out to the suburbs and work until I either retire or get killed, along with dozens of other sleepy commuters, in a diasterous freeway accident! I don't care for that. I want to travel, and take fragrant paths of opportunity where and when they open up. Here's an oft-quoted piece of Tolkein wisdom: "Not all who wander are lost."
Well, I'm not sure what, if anything, I've just proved. It's now very late, and I'm going to bed.
