Truth be told, friends, I spent a lot of time thinking yesterday. Thinking about where I'm at, how I got here, and where I want to go. Overanalytical, perhaps, but a necessary series of ideas, I feel.
If the purpose of one's life is to stay alive, be happy, and to seize the day, then by all means am I succeeding. I am happy. I am content, for the most part, and I am excited for the probable growth the next few months will bring me, as I begin to emerge on my own in this blustery town. But if the purpose of one's life is to setup up a profoundly productive and admirable future, then I feel that I may be stuck. There's a stagnancy in what it is that I do. I serve tables, I make ridiculously good money, and then I go home. There's no set schedule, and the hours can be a bit long at times. They are inconsistent, to say the least. There's no significant job security, and there's not much room to grow in the company. Maybe I am looking too hard at things and not necessarily enjoying the fruits of my labor, and maybe this is a quarter-life crisis of sorts, but I've gotten older, and I'm no more closer to adulthood than I was when I was 18. Sure, I'm a bit wiser, a bit more worldly, and a bit more experienced, but I want the security of a real job, something I trained for, something I studied for, something I truly worked hard to attain. I have half a Bachelor's degree in English Literature, and I know, as I've been job hunting for the last month, that with that degree, there is a lot of significant work to be found, to be had. Yet, to finish that degree, I'll have to sit and wait a year here in Illinois so as to get in-state residency, to get in-state tuition. I mean, even if I'm 27 when I graduate, I should be happy to have at least done so successfully, but it does illuminate the fact that I spent a lot of the past few years dicking around and not being as seriously motivated as I know I can be, as I know I was at one time.
I suppose this goes hand in hand with a previous entry in which I spoke about forgiving one's self. I sincerely do feel that what happened happened, and it's in the past now. I must admit to myself that I cannot change it, and all that I can do is grow from here on out. I truly have enjoyed much of the past few years of my life, and I've accumulated quite the little bank of stories of adventures and misadventures alike. And while I haven't achieved the highs that I feel I'm capable of, I have achieved and enjoyed a rich life in which I truly learned who I was and what I was made of.
I know I am over analyzing, and to moan on would be an utter sin, but I simply wanted to put it all down in writing, so as to look back on this entry and smile one day. "Wow, look how much I've done since then..." You know, that sort of thing.
Yesterday at work, a couple sat at one of my tables. They ordered a $150 bottle of wine and spoke of their upcoming vacation to Spain, which began this morning. They were real proper well-to-do's, and while they were pleasant and cordial, I did feel as if I were looked down upon a bit by the two's of 'em. But, as any good server does, I smiled and joked and thoroughly tried to have them enjoy their meal, their experience. When his wife went to the restroom, the gentleman motioned me over and told me this: "I've been watching you with all these people at your tables, and while you're really good at what you do, you're better than this. Whatever it is you end up doing in life, I have a real good feeling that you'll be great at it." He then proceeded to close out his tab, tip me astoundingly, and go about his life and his Spanish adventure with his darling chica.
I felt humbled and appreciative. I don't think he knew how significant of a comment that was to me.
I sure hope he's right, though.
