Five Alive

I've been going back through my archives recently, to piece together what I've been doing for the past five years. Last year I was in Fremont, having moved up there about a girl. We were settling in nicely. I was working a steady job, exploring suburbia, and paying some honest to goodness bills. Joining the land of adults more or less.

Two Novembers ago, a friend had just eloped. She did it in grand style too, taking her vows in a hot air balloon while dressed like Minnie Mouse. I was living with James at his condo located not five miles away from my house house. Why didn't I just live at home? Because my mom didn't want to promote my slackerism. I had also just quit a dream job (video game testing) that was more nightmare than memorable in order to write the blog book. It was also the beginning stages of my most recent ex-relationship. That was 2005.

2004, I voted for the very first time. For my participation, I got a celebratory speeding ticket not five minutes afterwards. I gave up my foreign citizenship for this? I think I'll walk to the polls next November, just to be safe. Three years ago, I got my second tattoo. I've averaged 3.33 tattoos a year since. I feel like that means I've been commemorating a lot of things, or maybe I just got bit by the ink bug.

Four years ago, we took a boys only trip to Vegas. Of course, a girl ended up going, since we're hardly real men, but the trip was novel and fun. Since then I've been to Vegas far more times that I'd like to count. I believe I was also about to start my first post-collegiate relationship after a two year girl-iatus. Along with that, I was starting my first real job. Like one with defined hours and you know, pay. Technically, I was scheduled for a quarter-life crisis but clearly, there was no crisis at hand. Other than me being years out of college and just then getting a job. Nope, no crisis at all.

A full five years ago, I was taking classes at UCSD, living at home, and exploring life back in San Diego after four years in Michigan, one and a half in New York, and another year or so split between China and England. Home sweet home they say.

Looking over the lot of it, I can't tell if I'm ahead or behind.

Six Novembers ago, I was presented with the idea of sticking around my father's company (he had just passed away) to learn the ropes and maybe eventually take over. I was twenty two and shown a five year blueprint for my life and future success. If things had gone a certain way, I could have been an integral part of the family business by twenty seven, perhaps even heading it.

That plan would have given me worldly success by any definition. I balked however, because five years seemed like such a long time. I didn't want to lose my mid-twenties. They seemed like they would be the time of my life.

Were they?

I'm now twenty nine, with my thirties around the corner, and clearly not in charge of a globally successful woodwind instrument mafia. I'm a little lost actually, career wise. Then again, what else is new? As a co-worker said to me today (paraphrased), "I don't see you doing this, to be honest." The good news is that I'm working on my second book, the first draft of which is due like basically right now. Five steps back, one step forward?

Hi Dad!