Well that's that...
I feel like we can communicate
On an alternate plane.
But we’ve hardly ever uttered a word.
Between us twice.
Yeah, one of those. He had a lot of good advice for me, but turns out he's in the same predicament. Restless. Confused. Reluctant to make a decision. Wondering what exactly was the *right* thing to do at this point. Well, anyways, it made for fulfilling conversation for the night. But I still don't know what will fulfill me in the long run.
Problem is, there's no single thing I truly have a passion for, I just have a passion for excelling. So how can I aggressively pursue something if I have no idea what direction it's in? Travel blindly and make the most of it? That'd be easy if I was a free-style living type of person but I get anxious if I can't see ten steps ahead. I need to know what the future holds so I can be prepared. It probably stems from a childhood of itinerancy and not-so-pleasant surprises.
(My favorite was the time when my mom came home from a long weekend away somewhere and informed us that she had married the sociopath she'd been dating. Fun stuff.)
So Mr. Misanthropic Philosopher who engaged in a lengthy conversation with me last night tells me that I should do what makes me happy.
I don't know what makes me happy. Besides ice cream. And snuggling. Stupid little things like that, none of them life-defining. And I seek a niche, a purpose, a reason for being, a sense of self. Ice cream, while amazing, cannot provide these things.
He tells me to choose, that the first step is hardest, but not to look back.
I have no idea which way to step.
I don't like taking risks.
I find myself telling him things like:
Comfortable is safe, but comfortable isn't necessarily fulfilling.
Being comfortable is not a reason to continue on your current path.
If you're unhappy with the present situation, it requires risk to change it.
Mr. Misanthropic Philosopher (who shall now be known as Mr. MP)-- I'll take my own advice if you do the same.
The pervasive question that haunts me now is... what's next?
On an alternate plane.
But we’ve hardly ever uttered a word.
Between us twice.
Yeah, one of those. He had a lot of good advice for me, but turns out he's in the same predicament. Restless. Confused. Reluctant to make a decision. Wondering what exactly was the *right* thing to do at this point. Well, anyways, it made for fulfilling conversation for the night. But I still don't know what will fulfill me in the long run.
- He suggested counseling. I wanted to do that at one point. Why did it change? I think I was put off by the amount of schooling I'd have to do to get anywhere. I probably was smoking alot of pot at the time and had the motivation of a stoner because I'll take a little challenge to a jaded daily quotidien any day.
- I have the materials to learn to be a personal trainer. I dig exercise and people come to me for exercise advice all the time. (and they make big bucks). Not exactly a career, but a supplement to my income involving something of interest to me.
- Graduate school? For what exactly? I have a BA in History. I don't want to be a Historian/Archivist/etc. History was really a piss-poor decision. If I followed through with the teaching thing it would've been worthwhile but just the History isn't going to do much for me.
- I could go for law. I know I'd be really good at it, but it's not something I really want to do.
Problem is, there's no single thing I truly have a passion for, I just have a passion for excelling. So how can I aggressively pursue something if I have no idea what direction it's in? Travel blindly and make the most of it? That'd be easy if I was a free-style living type of person but I get anxious if I can't see ten steps ahead. I need to know what the future holds so I can be prepared. It probably stems from a childhood of itinerancy and not-so-pleasant surprises.
(My favorite was the time when my mom came home from a long weekend away somewhere and informed us that she had married the sociopath she'd been dating. Fun stuff.)
So Mr. Misanthropic Philosopher who engaged in a lengthy conversation with me last night tells me that I should do what makes me happy.
I don't know what makes me happy. Besides ice cream. And snuggling. Stupid little things like that, none of them life-defining. And I seek a niche, a purpose, a reason for being, a sense of self. Ice cream, while amazing, cannot provide these things.
He tells me to choose, that the first step is hardest, but not to look back.
I have no idea which way to step.
I don't like taking risks.
I find myself telling him things like:
Comfortable is safe, but comfortable isn't necessarily fulfilling.
Being comfortable is not a reason to continue on your current path.
If you're unhappy with the present situation, it requires risk to change it.
Mr. Misanthropic Philosopher (who shall now be known as Mr. MP)-- I'll take my own advice if you do the same.
The pervasive question that haunts me now is... what's next?