As Lauryn serenades me through what she thinks is my open memo assignment, I can't help but allow my thoughts to wander to the place thoughts go at 3 o'clock in the morning. Quick word to the wise: 5-hour Energy shots will keep you awake. They will not keep you focused.
Twenty-three is an odd age. You are leaving the age bracket that can claim youthful ignorance and zeal as legitimate excuses for misguided decisions. Still, what does one really know at this age? What lessons of adolescence prepare one to decide before he's reached a third of his years what he wants to do with the rest of them?
Luckily, one thing I did learn up to this point is that if you don't work, you don't eat. And as my man Bill Nunn once said, I'm trying to eat steak. However, thinking like that will land you in a place you don't belong, with people you don't know; or worse, people you don't like.
The iPod has directed me to the more melancholy Iron & Wine, and I apologize for the somber tone that is certain to flow out of this black Uni-ball. But maybe that's just how things are at twenty-three; you're up one moment, down the next. Shit, that's life.
I'm ten days into year twenty-four and I have more questions, dreams, desires, ideas, doubts, and loves than I do answers. Alas, I doubt any epiphanies are waiting on me tonight.
Until my next bout with life's insecurities, I'm back to working on getting that steak.
Love (cause there's not enough of it),
IGH
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