Well damn

Two cars, $65,000, three girlfriends, three break ups, two apartments, two dorms, countless meals comprised of mediocre cafeteria fare, hundreds of dances, several road trips, and a couple hang overs. These are the items, among others unmentioned, that comprise the last six years of of my life, five of them enrolled at the University of Wisconsin River Falls.

In all my time in school, and now graduated, I'd thought myself as having gained some modicum of wisdom and direction with my life. It turns out, though, that post-grad life is the exact same as student life, only with the absence of forced mental laboring. I was recently beset by this realization, to which my internal (and outward) response was "...well damn." Now, in this life of a 40 hour work week, and expectations to attend family functions that previously found conflict with "homework," mental atrophy is actually something of a concern, and I seek out challenges to keep myself sharp. In class, things like this would be called "an essay worth 50 percent of your grade." Now a more apt title would be "a blog to tell the world about your mental anguish so that you don't go on an acetaminophen-fueled rampage through Walmart to find something to buy, be unhappy with, and subsequently return to the customer service desk while I bitch about my mental anguish."

I figured that by the time my diploma came in the mail, I'd have a 5, 10, 20 year, and retirement plans...but that is not the case. According to my current sample size (which is about a month), adulthood is not really a state of driving towards solid goals as childhood was. In 5th grade, all I wanted was to be in middle school. In 8th grade, all I wanted was to get to the high school. During my senior year of high school, all I wanted was to get into college. In college, my goals were to make it to each subsequent academic year with more friends, better health, and a higher GPA. My senior year of college, I wanted to get into a career track and be on a path to buy a house. I am, currently, amidst the latter stage, but I am not the myopic youth I once was. I can see past purchasing my house within the next couple years, and I can hear this voice in my head asking, in a vexing voice "...what then?" I have no answer. Kids? No, I don't want those. Buy a dog? Maybe eventually, but that's hardly a life goal. Hobbies? Vacations? Spending time with my friends? Again, those are not goals; those are existential and experiential things.

And there it is. Existence. Experience. Adulthood is not all about "what's next?" Adulthood is about "what's now?" I no longer spend my time focused on a goal, and in lieu of reminiscing, I spend my time creating the stuff of reminiscence.

I suppose I am sad for past years somewhat wished away, but I am thrilled for the experiences that I had therein, and I am thrilled for today.