It's 2:30 in the morning and somewhere between the drinks and the drive home I decided to myself that I would figure out exactly what I'm doing with my life. I can hear the murmur of some band coming through my speakers and there's the smell of mold or mildew trailing out of my kitchen. I'm sitting at a computer I stole from my previous job and drinking some terrible rum I found in my pantry. Because the only way I could face my life and reflect on it is by drinking myself into a stupor. Are there worse things in the world? Sure there are, but when you feel scared to do anything but the safe thing, things look pretty bleak.
It's true though. I am scared of taking any risks. Upsetting the familiarity of my daily routine. I'm scared of failing and maybe hurting my pride. The biggest step I've taken in the past five years has been publishing my stories to a website that only my friends and familiars can read. The next step I took was to create this blog where I'm vicariously living through a caricature of myself where I'm a self proclaimed billionaire. And that's something I consider a big step.
Over the past few months I've come to realize that maybe an English degree wasn't the smartest career path. Sure, I love to write. I love literature. The thing they don't tell you in high school about college is how it's only a way to educate yourself for a career. If you go there to learn you'd better be learning something that can help you succeed in life. Hermin Melville and what makes a film noir aren't so helpful when someone is looking over your scant resume. So I'm finally coming to the end of my long and torturous college career and I realize the road is essentially leading nowhere.
There's a time in my life that I would give almost anything to go back to. A time where I was fearless. I could try anything and not worry about the consequences because I was at the absolute lowest point in my life. There's something about feeling terrible that is completely liberating. I always try to tell people "if you ever find yourself at a place where it could not get any worse, you need to get out there and do what you want." Because you see, if you fail at something you've always wanted to do what does it matter? Your pride is the least of your worries.
Now it's three o'clock and this rum is getting watered down from the ice. A softer sound is seeping out of my speakers and i'm starting to worry about the length of this blog post.
For once in my adult life I have a strong desire to make a change in my life. No, it's not a change in the kind of person I am. I'm not going to say "I really need to drink less" or "let's maybe try and save some money." What i'm talking about is a change in everything that I know. The people, and surroundings, and familiarity. I've set my sights on packing up and moving out. As soon as I can reasonably do so i'm out of here. I need to get out of my comfort zone and experience something new and terrifying. Some place where I don't know the people or the streets or even the language.
This could be the biggest mistake of my life. I'm probably holding up another city or country on a pedestal. Like somehow moving away while staying the same is going to completely change my life and steer me to a path of success and fortune. At this point I don't care. Tonight I celebrated getting a job where I could potentially get paid minimum-wage by doing a job that a fifth-grader could conceivably do better than me. Let's put this in perspective. Take into account inflation and I was making more when I was seventeen than I do now.
So what does it matter. Nothing could be worse than this. So I find myself again with no fear. And this time I'm going to take advantage of it. Move away and try to do something with this English degree I have. If I fail I fail. But at least I'll fail with some pretty cool scenery.
