On My Way Home

I’m sitting in the San Francisco airport, waiting for my connection to Baltimore to depart. Waiting for my means home on Christmas Eve 2005. As I sat patiently waiting, I decided to listen to a cd that I haven’t listen to in years. Coupled with seeing someone that I used to work with back in my A&F glory days, this has brought about some strange feelings. Feelings of doubt and questions of how I got here. Two or three years ago, would I have believed that I would be living in Santa Monica, working as an internal wholesaler for AIG SunAmerica? I think the answer would be a resounding “NO.” I honestly believed that I was meant for more in this life. That I would be making some sort of difference and be known by people other than my family and small group of friends. But now, as my 25th birthday looms just on the horizon, I see that I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m not saying that my life is over and I am forever relegated to another “might have been,” but I’m saying that those dreams look farther away now than they ever have. I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about what age it is that boys become men. The age they stop drinking heavily, stop womanizing, stop wasting their lives away and start focusing on their future, their goals, starting a family of their own. Personally, I feel I will never reach this point in my life. I still feel like I am 18. I feel more 18 now than I did at 18…and I don’t see myself changing anytime soon. Almost daily, there are moments where I think, “what the hell am I doing? Grow up, tim” but I don’t do anything about it. But then again, G is just drawing his life into focus and he is several years older… so I guess there’s still hope.

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How is it possible to have so much running through my mind… yet have no way to put it into words? I know I form my thoughts in English, so why can’t I express them?

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Let’s give this another shot… if there was one aspect of my life that I wish I could change, one part of my personality that I find utterly lacking, it would have to be my ability to appreciate the here and now. I find myself always living for tomorrow. Living for what may happen, not what is happening. Why can’t I ever be happy with what I have now? Why must I always be waiting for something better? Looking back, there are points in my life where I should have realized I was happy. But I was blinded by the future. I threw away some great things because of my stubborn belief that there is always, always going to be something better coming. But what if there isn’t? What if I cast aside the most important part of my life, be it a person, a job, anything, and regret it for the rest of my life… I guess that’s where the optimist in me takes over, refusing to be believe that this is as good as it gets. But then again, at what point does the glass stop being half full and become half empty? It’s a subtle switch, but it happens. I know that all too well. Maybe I should just say fuck half-full or half-empty: take a big swig, shatter the glass on the wall, and order another drink. What could be the harm in that?