Sunday, August 12, 2007

On the Eve of My New Gig

I was baseball scouting over the weekend. Yep, that's right. A friend works as an admissions counselor/coach for a D III school. So there we were in tandem watching the Minnesota American Legion tournament. After day of scouting, I confess I am a self-proclaimed scouting roadie. Because I think a "roadie" has more perks than being a scouting groupie. And let's face it, I don't just put out for anyone at any time. That would be scandalous. And I don't need a scandal on the eve of my new gig?

What do I need?

A fair question, but it can be taken in all sorts of directions. There are the basics -- friends, family, alcohol, good conversation, shelter, water, food, sports. But after that. I have no idea.

What I do know is I give myself goosebumps sometimes thinking about my life. I like who I am and who I have become. I don't know if other people my age, 26, can say that. I used to joke around that everyone dies at 27 (Hendrix, Morrison, Joplin, Cobain, etc.) and I still believe a part of you does die at 27. Because I am convinced that 27 will be the age when I will first describe myself as a woman-girl, instead of girlish(tomboyish) woman. I don't know what it is at 27? Maybe shit has happened universally to everyone so they have to deal with it by that age. Or maybe it really is the time when you become a grown-up. But I must say -- those you are on the cusp of X/Y like I am, we're not really growing up entirely. We may have spouses, partners or in a relationship. We may have children or dogs or cats or other pets that we adore. But you know what? We are still a bunch of sarcastic, pragmatic, somewhat-optimistic group of folk and damn right we will drive our Jettas, listen to The Current and can't wait for our kiddies to be wearing smart-ass onesies, when we decide to have children. Or adopt them.

I've had the pleasure in the last six months to have left a position and re-connect with people who I met in earlier stages of my life. I've also had friendships end for no apparent reason. And while I like to think I am a introperspective person, who could easily pick up a conversation with someone I haven't talked to in 10 years, I now can verify and validate those assumptions.

I look in the mirror and honestly like everything about me and my life. Even the flaws. I think I prefer the flaws more because they tell stories. Scars, physical or emotional, my iTunes collection, books, magazines, movies, hockey posters, Gopher memorabilia, Twins autographs, journals, expanding waistline, 40 pairs of shoes, broken thoughts and lost ideas, they are all there. Nestled with the hope, big dreams, aspirations, determination that I have for myself and the life I continue to embark on.

I know I am not a nice person, but sometimes after reading the paper, you gotta think life is nice, when you take the time to acknowledge and soak it all up. Now if only the freaking Twins could start winning again. Yep, back to my sporting angst. Oh we suffer in Minnesota.

1 comment:

Simon said...

Death at 27. Well, not exactly, but I do have the feeling of being...on...the...verge, of figuring it out, of adulthood, of...something. Reams of paper and gallons of ink from better writers than I discuss this more coherently.

Am I really turning into that guy who leaves random rambles on random peoples blogs? Maybe so.