Twenty-two is the new Forty

Today marks exactly one month since graduation. So here is my one month analysis of life after college.

I thoroughly enjoy my living situation. How couldn't I? I live for free in suburban Chaska with a comfy bed, nice living quarters, two dogs (an animal I have never lived with), two cats (an animal I have lived with my entire life), a huge meal every other night on average, and free parking. Oh, and my roommate and I are pretty tight.

My work situation is, well, fine. Between my two obligations I make out to about 60-hour work weeks. Several early mornings straight into late nights (when it comes to work standards). The drive isn't as bad as I thought it would be, making a triangle between Chaska, Shakopee and Eden Prairie. Rarely bad traffic and pretty straight shots from place to place. I really enjoy my internship as a programs and events specialist(?). I get to do arts and crafts with kids at libraries in the area. I have been searching for a 1950's mock Big Band to play for an event which takes place in a plane hangar. This means I contact managers and listen/watch material they send in, begging to be hired. For the same event I have been put to the task to find a catering service. Looking at food on the internet, talking main and side dishes, budget and service. I also found out that Canterbury Park has boxes filled with used playing cards and if you contact the right people, they are willing to give them away in mass quantities. I asked for 200, the woman's reply "No problem. Just let me know when you are coming and I will meet you at the valet." Now I'm thinking I might shoot for 300. Keep a few for myself.

I have numerously described my actual (for the very short time being) job in pre-debt collections as "numbing". It may sound terrible but it's a far cry from hating it. The time passes, not fast or slow, just passes. I have a window cubicle so I am able to aimlessly waste time by staring at the tree tops. I have a portable iHome that as quietly as possible plays my tunes all day long. I make on average around 600 phone calls a day and am able to read while they ring. Ninety percent of people don't answer so that is plenty of ringing. I have even been able to master the art of leaving voice-mails, always the same script, while I continue to read. Not just look at the words on the page, actually read and understand while talking into a headset about a completely opposite topic. My walls are decorated with post-it note pen drawings, art history and Spanish study notes and other work related papers. I am unable to decorate with the pictures of family as every one else in the office does because I can't let anyone know that I date Tawny. Who might I add not only works there; she sits behind me through the glass walls of my boss' office. Oh, and our boss is her sister. You can understand what other employees would think if they found out that the boss' sister, brother, cousin, and basically brother-in-law all work under her. I've always been told that it's all about who you know.

But the thing I have noticed more now than any time in my life is how physically worn out I am. It makes sense. Wake up at 6 or 7 every morning, get home at 8 or 9 every night. Most week nights I find myself in bed by ten, as if I had curfew like in Junior High again. For the first three weeks I blamed it on my work schedule. My body just hadn't adjusted yet. But one specific night this past week put my new life into perspective. One night that made me feel like a changing of the guards had already happened in my life. I am notorious for needing bathrooms breaks on average two times a night. Usually between 2 and 3, and again between 5 and 6. These are the times I would usually refer to as "the middle of the night", for obvious reason. Well on this one specific night, not only was I in bed by 9:15, but my middle of the night calling came much earlier. As of one month ago, I had rarely been to bed before 11:30 in four years. On this night as I returned from my business I peaked at the clock to see "11:25", quite possibly the first mid-night calling that came pre-midnight.

This may seem like a small bump in the road moment to most, but not for me. Everyone has those moments that seem stupid and small yet are remembered forever. This is no doubt one of them. For the first time in 22 years, I felt like I had truly moved on to a new stage of my life, even more so than the transfer from high school to college. I suddenly felt like a true adult. It was like a mid-life crisis at 22 but instead of buying a Harley or getting a tattoo, I bought myself new running shoes. Maybe to prove to myself I am still young enough to always find time to be active. Maybe just because it was time. I do know for certain that when I got back into bed that night after seeing that clock, I lied on my back, stared at the ceiling, and quietly giggled to myself because of this realization. And yes, I did immediately set an alarm on my cell phone to write this post.

I Am Martin

If you haven't read the namesake of this blog, Candide by Voltaire, you wouldn't understand the title of this entry without an explanation...so here it is.

Of several main characters the three that stick out are of course Candide and his two philosopher friends and travel mates Pangloss and Martin. Pangloss is an optimist who believes in the age old saying, "Everything happens for a reason." Martin on the other hand is a cynical scholar. As an extreme pessimist, he expects nothing but the worst in every situation. Although I can't say I am this intense, I find Martin to be a much closer example of myself than Pangloss. And it stings me to say the main reason is...my choice of college major. This post is about to go in all directions so sit back, grab a drink and try to follow along.

I started school with no intent on falling in love with art and its history. After a few freshman year courses, I couldn't help but believe that this was the future for me. NOT KNOWING WHATSOEVER the possible, or lack of, career opportunities available. After committing to the major and attempting to figure out my future life, I became disturbed. I can blame it on the economy but the truth is, not as many people need art, or realize that they do, as much as they need financial advice, or manager assistance, or insurance agents, all careers I could have easily pursued.

Now I am in no way questioning my love of the subject. If I didn't enjoy it, I never would have voluntarily taken the additional unnecessary classes. I also have no doubt that I want to pursue a higher education in Art History that will allow me to reach certain goals, namely, becoming a College Professor. And with an Art History degree, their are not many options without some form of a masters degree. Okay, so chalk it up, here I come graduate school, fine with me. Now does this make me any more stress free? Of course not, I am Martin. I will find a flaw in a Rolex watch, or a circle-me-bert insta-circle.

Here is where things get twisted and this post takes a wicked turn. I thought about doing these topics separately, but in reality they work in complete harmony. The utterly exhausting pessimistic view I have of my future and my favorite moment in four years of college. I had plenty of good ones. Of course the parties, especially the several held at the expense of my own granny-smith green home. Or when 4 friends and I walked into Jackpot Junction Casino while the sun was setting and eight hours later left while the sun was rising. How about a semester in Italy. I mean come on, how can that not top the list (my moments there do make up numbers 2 - 50). Poker tournaments, movie marathons, a UND trip, a Vegas trip, even an entire January of N64 Mariokart. My final college class, final exam, final paper, senior week, commencement...they all line up single file behind number one. And sorry friends who hope you may be involved, I was alone.

My favorite moment came on a lone night, sitting on my porch with a glass of wine, a cigar and two papers to peer critique all with a raging party only seven feet and a screen door away. As finals neared and paper due dates peaked around the corner, this particular night needed to be focused on schoolwork. Instead of going to the library or locking myself away in my room, I decided to plop myself on the porch with a drink, a smoke, my ears listening to the rain and my eyes correcting papers. This night was beyond awesome, it was immediate facebook status awesome.

The reason I connect these two topics is because for the first time in my life, I was CERTAIN of what my future held for me. College professor, that is my calling, officially. Teaching, my goal. Several more nights drinking wine, smoking cigars and correcting papers on future porches. This is my Eden. I know it might be hard for you to believe this small moment could be the best of my college life, but you don't feel my cynicism. In this moment, everything in my life was perfect. My life was a butterfly, freed of my cocoon. I was Pangloss, if only for that hour, that moment.

It is tough for me to label exactly what I have learned from the realization that these two experiences work side by side. Maybe just that no matter how bad or tough things seem to be; no matter how stressed or pessimistic you are; no matter how confused or sad or haunted by the freight train that is your impending future, just find that one moment in your life that was flawless. Now channel that moment. Now smile. See? It is all going to work out beautifully. If perfect happened once, it will most certainly strike again.

Pain for Pleasure

Last night while watching an episode of CSI: NY I had to tivo rewind at one point in order to copy down a phrase said by one of the shows characters. In a confrontational scene, Sheldon says to Danny who is slacking on his walking rehab, "Pain is the payment for each precious thing." I honestly have trouble thinking of a statement that could possible be more true. Some examples;

I think of college. I think of so many difficult courses, situations, arguments, etc., all of which made college more enjoyable, valuable and yes, precious. Want more specific? How about the kidney stone I was blessed with on Halloween of my sophomore year? While all my friends are out having fun, dressed up as the Mario Bros cast, I lie in pain on my dorm room futon. You may ask where the precious comes. The precious is in the single friend who came back to take care of me. The one friend who called her nurse mother to figure out what we should do. The single friend that took me to the hospital, waited while I had tests done, took me to the Mankato hospital the following morning and waited their until my mother made it. A friend that in those most painful moments became so very special.

How about marathons? I have not spoken to a single sole who enjoyed mile 25. In fact one even said he was unable to sleep for three days because his legs were just too sore. Although I have not had the opportunity, or maybe have not sought it, I can imagine the precious, unforgettable moment that is crossing the finish line. A recent ecstatic finisher told me, "The medal was totally worth the $75 entry fee." I can't imagine the physically climb of Mount Everest to be the most enjoyable of occasions, but the view from the top...well I've seen pictures. What about Relay for Life? Isn't the whole idea about persevering through the pain in order to have a more precious view on life. On a personal note I can think of hikes, several miles long on difficult terrain while my feet scream for relief. One of the fondest memories I have is the moment I put those travelled feet in a Colorado Lake after six miles of rock, dirt and hill. Our final destination lake, just Tawny and I, in solitude, admiring distant waterfalls.

Love? Marriage? Same story (at least I would bet with marriage). Never physical pain but one that is often times much worse. I have always thought the phrase should be, "sticks and stones can break your bones but words can break the rest." Whether it is loud shouting or shear silence, the arguments and fights or lone nights. These always forgiving moments only make the pleasant times all the more valuable, memorable, lovable, _______ (insert adjective here).

Obviously the most pure example would be childbearing. I am so grateful to never have to go through the pain of childbirth, but I think every mother would tell you the pain is worth the reward. Every father would also agree the squeezed so hard it nearly broke hand, baby cried so long I couldn't sleep nights, and the nine "Yes, honey, I'll do anything you want" months are all but a blip on the radar compared to the monumental moments of fatherhood. I obviously have no idea, but if I am still writing this in several years, I'll be sure to let you know.

What I learned today is that the most precious of times are worth every bit of pain. All pain that I can live with. I cannot, however, live without the precious moments I have had and will continue to have because of it.

We Are All Zebras

Every person at some point of each day feels trapped, right? If you think about it I would be willing to bet you might start noticing these moments. It doesn't have to be anything big. You could simply feel cornered in the morning during rush hour, not sure if you'll make it to work on time even though it happens everyday and you always make it. Or when you're forced to fall asleep to HGTV instead of the game because their is only one TV in the bedroom.

They could also be more difficult situations, though. I can imagine every parent has wondered at one point or another what life would have been like without children, never doubting for a second that it wouldn't be the same. But knowing that it might have been better, might have been worse. Most adults have undoubtedly stuck it out, or currently are, at a job because it paid for the lifestyle their family had become accustomed to even though the work means nothing to them.

I can happily say, jobless and childless, that these more challenging dilemmas have yet to phase me...they certainly will. Like everyone has the opportunity to decide their lifestyle, I have committed to mine. I have gladly chosen Vern Yip over Michael Cuddyer, Barefoot Contessa over The NBA Finals. When I become a dad I will most certainly choose the imprisonment of fatherhood over all other childless activities. As a now pseudo-uncle of four (pending five), I enjoy every moment I spend with each of them. It excites me to think about having a few of my own someday (don't worry mom and dad) but I can't help but think I will have that taboo of a feeling; that eerie feeling of regret, of something different, dare i say better.

As I write this I feel like I may be rubbing people the wrong way. I, unlike most others, really don't think it is wrong to think about the "what ifs?" in life. You just have to do it differently than most. Their are pros and cons to every question and decision and asking yourself these questions should be no different. What if I was single and could fall asleep to the Minnesota Twins, or the Los Angeles Lakers? Well then I would not be able to see the most beautiful woman in the world when I roll over every morning. And when I have children, what if I was able to go out to more movies, on more dates, to more sporting events. I would then undoubtedly miss out on the universes greatest gift and creation...gazing at each of these miracles every night before they fall sleep.

What I learned today is that we are all zebras. Free to roam the world, doing anything we could possibly conjure but forever trapped behind the black bars of our own decisions. I can think of one thing and one thing only that every person should never regret. One thing that makes all other trapped moments vanish, all other imprisonments feel like cons to the pros of your chosen past, present and future.

And I can only imagine prison to be much more pleasant with someone you love sharing your cell.