Recently, I was very lucky to have been shown one of the funniest clips in the world thanks to Brandon: The Double Rainbow. Sure, the guy in the video is probably some long-haired, un-shaved, crazy-pants hippy, but his absolute and complete joy is palpable. I'm trying to think of a moment where I have experienced joy like his, and there are several. Performing in a drum corps show for the very last time, at DCI Finals with the Cavaliers in 2003 is definitely up there; so is the memory of the look on my mom's face when I finally graduated from college. But I remember I was laughing too, and I got to thinking about how cynical I have gotten, and not in the usually funny way that I think about myself.
What exactly is so wrong about being so completely delighted with something that even when presented with it in your face you are in total disbelief? Have we become so used to accepting mediocrity, delivering toward the lowest denominator, and almost hitting the bullseye that when we witness something that makes us happy, we have no choice but to downplay its importance? Late last year I shared with myself, and the 2 or 3 people that read this blog, a dream that I would work toward making true this year: moving to NYC. Through no fault of anyone, and through no lack of drive or ambition, that will not be happening. Not yet, anyway. The comical part was that my methodical planning would be the downfall of that plan, because it was not very flexible, especially when the first notice of student loans coming out of deferment came in the mail...
In the last few months, I've taken some time to think about my future, and have taken some steps toward the big changes that I was planning for NYC. I also came to the shocking realization that I am getting tired, and rather quickly, of "The Struggle." I spent most of last year working during the day at the firm, on the weekends at the bar, and a few nights a week going to school. This year, I have replaced school with getting more investment licenses. And no, I am not trying to elicit a tearful reaction for poor Jon out of anyone. I have traveled, lifted, laughed, and enjoyed life to my heart's content. And I am also not saying that I am done struggling in life, done working hard, done cutting throats and taking names to do what I want and get what I think I need (or Steve Jobs tells me I need).
What I am done with is thinking that at almost 30 years old, I can continue living the way I live: barely sleeping, working impossibly long hours, and causing myself more harm than good, and all for... what? I have some dwindling savings that are becoming useful as I make arrangements to leave Columbus (that plan is still on track), which is great. And I honestly think, and maybe I am wrong but I refuse to find out, that moving to New York with $1000 and a dream would have been a huge mistake, merely deepening "The Struggle." Working at a firm, and bar tending, and selling plasma would all have been great to get my life started in the big city, but let's face it: I have a mortgage, for goodness sake! I want to make some smart decisions with regard to my future, and I can still work toward accomplishing the goals I set for myself, especially the move to a bigger city.
And yes, I've met someone, and yes, he's fantastic... and yes, he lives in Chicago. But c'mon. Anyone who's watched Sex and the City season six knows that when you move to Paris with your famous-artist boyfriend, you should do it for yourself, because if you do it for any other reason, you'll end up missing your French book party. My connections to Chicago run pretty deep, and it is a world-class city that I love, and it is a place that I can further my career and my self, while staying comfortably close (and far) from my life here in Columbus. It may even, eventually, take me all the way to New York someday... but for now, I really believe that Chicago is the place I can make a big change, without having to hustle and struggle... not all the time, anyway.
I could take a walk down Lakeshore for absolutely no reason or watch the sun go down from the Hancock. Get drunk with friends at Sidetrack belting show tunes on the weekend, and work toward making my career take off and move my self forward. I'll finally take a picture in front of the bean, or maybe, if I'm lucky: find another double rainbow of my own.
Baby boy, we weren't as close as we could have been when we were both in Columbus, but that was a time when our difference in age meant more than it does now. But, in case you care, I think you are on the right track, because as you approach thirty, you don't want to keep living that same way, you want to start sleeping—because you have about five more years before you can't sleep anymore, if you are anything like me—you deserve and want somebody who is responsible for and to you and to and for whom you are responsible, and it's time for you to spread those wings and move on, and Chicago is a great place for you to move on to.
ReplyDeleteAlso, where's my bear name?
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