I woke up and said “What the fuck am I doing?”
My life has been pretty eventful. From the outside, my 26 years on earth have been pretty successful. I’ve escaped death, had no kids, worked for the number one automotive manufacturer (at their number one dealership the 2nd consecutive year they won the title) in the world, made pretty decent money, gone to college and really acquired a knack for the finer things in life. Watches, tailored suits, fine cars, finer women, all the fancy playboy stuff you aspire to have in your early 20’s and even later in life- from the inside, however, it’s pretty different.
I’ve escaped death, but have trouble hearing from the strokes and meningitis that were certain death from my first day of life. Getting me to focus on anything for more than an hour is like herding cats. My nose has been broken more times than I care to admit. I’ve broken ribs, fingers and toes, and have had as many stitches/staples has I do years in my life. Of the 8 cars that I’ve owned, 3 of them can be attributed to the later injuries in the aforementioned list. Working for the number one automotive manufacturer consisted of 4 Saturdays off in 4.25 years in the business, and a regular 80 hour work week. I missed family events like you skipped college English. Speaking of skipping college English- the 4 years I attended were a complete waste because I didn’t know how to figure out what I wanted to do. Most of my classes were blatantly disregarded because I was beyond disinterested in the content. The finer things in life? Sure, I can tell what bourbon you are drinking by smelling it, but that doesn’t amount to much now, does it?
Bringing me to the question of the hour, day, week, month, year, decade, life- What the fuck am I doing?
If I measure my accomplishments, I have the sudden urge to piss like a scared dog. I think to myself, “Have you really just existed this entire time? Is this what you’re supposed to be doing? Doesn’t life have a supreme purpose for you?!” Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t- who really knows? But the overwhelming feeling of missing something is telling me it’s time for another change. When I’ve felt like this in the past, my aspirations just sort of dissolved. I’m not really motivated to do anything about how I feel. The path to change has too many moving pieces. It sort of feels like looking through binoculars backwards. Looking some insurmountable Change Monster in the face (life) is a bit intimidating from time to time.
But, like many times before, an epiphany rummages its way through grey seas of thought and smacks me in the face. “Do something different, De Luca. Come off it and be the optimist.” This will normally tithe me until I can get busy enough not to think about the pile of shit I am currently trudging through. Though today, the point was a little more concise: To do what you are really wanting to do, you’re going to have to go back to college. I’ve really tried very hard to avoid going back. College was the first thing I really failed at in life. Subsequent failures attributed- it’s like a giant, campus-shaped stain on a freshly pressed white shirt (from the tailored shirts I still have in the closet) that will never go away. For me, it’s an embarrassment.
4.6 years later, I am tired of running from embarrassment. Running from embarrassment makes you bitter and fickle and a child. Sometimes, it takes a good one on the chin to get your head straight. Not the motivator board, life’s lemonade bullshit- but a genuine “This is what I am supposed to be doing at this point in my life” straight. For me, that was this morning at 5:44 am. So the next time I ask myself “What the fuck am I doing?” the answer will be “The things you need to do.”
I could be completely crazy having conversations with myself. But at least I feel like there is a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel.