Nic Narrates

I’m turning 27 this year. In just a few months actually. Notwithstanding my anti-wrinkle cream collection of StriVectin, Lift Fusion, and Olay Regenerist, I’m not much bothered these days by getting older.

But, as I assess the damage of some recent poor choices, and as everyone around me seems to be losing their shit as 30 (or 40) approaches, I’m starting to wonder if “my story” at 26 is what I would have written if it were only up to me.

I’m a strange bird when it comes to setting goals and planning things out. I’m organized and “goal-oriented,” yes, but to ward off disappointment over the years I’ve somehow tricked myself into thinking if I wind up with something else, that’s okay too. Consider it a “Certificate of Participation” for playing the game anyway.

And so, for the most part, my story has been one of mediocrity. Vague accomplishment when I won the trophy and flimsy acceptance when I did not.

I wanted a graduate degree, so I got one. I needed to live in my own apartment, and have for five years. I couldn’t pass up living downtown, so I do. I wanted to travel, to have someone come along with me, but went anyway. I figured I should probably have a career, and somehow I’ve managed to stay employed.

So……now what?

I know it doesn’t take much for your life to turn on its heel, but I get the distinct impression that the decisions I’m making now are opening and closing doors permanently. It’s time to slow down and figure out what doors should stay open and lock those that won’t stay shut.

What will 27 and 28 and 29 look like? A better, bigger apartment in the city? A vacation each spring? A more engaging job? A puppy? Europe? A boyfriend who will love me just the way I am?

And further down the road? A husband? A home? A baby? Another? A career change? Family vacations? Living abroad?

Maybe those things will happen. Maybe they won’t. Maybe I won’t ever get married or ever find the perfect job or ever own a home. Maybe when it comes down to it, I won’t want to. But if you told me right now that I wouldn’t have any of those things, I’d be damn sure to prove you wrong.

Like I said, my story is one of mediocrity. Blissful mediocrity…at least, I hope.

Filed under: work in progress by Nic