23

I always used to wonder what I’d be doing at age 23. I think the notion hit me when I first really started listening to Incubus. There’s a line in “Pardon Me” when he talks about being 23, and I think it was just the massive scope I heard in the song while listening to it on headphones that made me wonder what I’d be doing, what I’d be like, what my objectives in life would be at that time. Overall it seemed like a significant age—just out of college, two years past 21, five years after being 18 and on the brink of graduating high school and making such a loaded choice between college, getting a job or something (decidedly) else.
Five years ago I had no clue. Two years ago it looked like grad school. One year ago it looked like getting ready for grad school and working in a coffee shop somewhere. And now…I’ll spend most of my time at 23 years of age in Europe, working as a musician. Maybe this is overshooting a bit, but I’m certain that if you took me at all three of those ages and gave them a peak into where I was going and what I’d be doing you’d have three very similar answers, likely somewhere along the lines of “holy shit, no way,” or “holy shit, really?” or, possibly “son of a bastard, that’s awesome” (times change, hair styles change, exclamations merely shift).
I think I’m at the point where I’ve come out of my shell enough and the nervous, quiet me isn’t so nervous, isn’t so quiet. I think I’m coming into my own with the guitar. I willingly accept getting tossed around and into trouble as long as I can call it a good time and learn from it. I love digging into things I don’t understand and soaking them up until I’m sick of them, needing to step back until a day or two later when I can appreciate my recent crash course all over again. I’m completely comfortable and accepting of writing near nonsense and posting it on the internet for anyone to read, namely since it means I got you to read it. Ha. Take that.
Maybe it’s because I’m to the point where I’m not too nervous about the future. Maybe because I’ve finally dug into reading “On The Road” and I don’t feel like it’s over my head, that I can relate to what Sal Paradise wants to see. I’m not even sure what this “it” is, but “it” is not so bad. “It” is actually sort of nice. “It” is cool what whatever comes next, so long as there’s coffee and scones nearby. That’s the important thing.