Exactly two years ago today I left my college town as a post-grad nomad. . .I had big dreams in my heart as I drove away from that smelly old mining town rusting along the Ohio River. I can tell you that none of those dreams came true, and the funny thing that I never even thought I would say is, I'm so thankful they didn't.
After eighteen years as a student who (NerdAlert) loved school, I'm still just not really sure what else to do, other than make coffee. When they asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up, I said I wanted to be a ballerina (I never took a single lesson) or an actress (I have terrible stage fright, and though I find theater fun, I never found it very fulfilling) or the president (but only so I could outlaw abortion and then hang out in the White House).
My concept of reality wasn't very realistic. Still isn't, actually. If you had told me then that I would be where I am today, though. . .I don't know what I would have done, but I'm glad you didn't. It's been a struggle to get here, but I've enjoyed watching the mystery unfold. I can't say that I wouldn't like to change a few things, but without those particular causes for suffering, I wouldn't have also found a particular cause for joy.
Reality has a way of checking itself, and it seems to do this in waves for me. Often when I find my brain about to explode from the pressure of it all, I am surprised by this unique joy (a happiness I really never thought I could feel), and all the overwhelming thoughts weighing me down lose their heaviness. They take on color and fire and become like rainbow confetti. Then I welcome the explosion, because that means it's time to party.
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