Living the Dream
They say it kind of snarky, sarcastic. "Yep, just living the dream." Like they are doing anything but living a dream. A nightmare perhaps but not a dream. I always have to wonder, though. If life is so awful, so un-dreamlike, why don't they do something to change it? I suppose they are mired, stuck in a life they spent years dreaming of and pursuing, and have absolutely no idea how to escape. If they even know escape is possible. Most of them are living some incarnation of the American Dream - education, job, house, marriage, family - and it's nothing like they imagined it would be. "I guess this is all there is...," they think. "Unless I win the lottery, beat the house in Vegas." Of course they never play the lottery, never go to Vegas. They merely sit tangled up in a shitty status quo and snark about how they are "living the dream."
I feel for them. It would be hard not to. They're miserable. They've made a choice, made a bed so to speak, and now they must deal with the consequences. I mean you can't just up and change your life, can you? Not when you have a career, a mortgage, bills, a spouse, and children to consider. Oops. It's no wonder so many people have mid-life crises. And accuse me of having one as well.
I might be at mid-life, but I'm most definitely not having, nor have I ever had, a mid-life crisis. I'm not saying I didn't chase the American Dream. I did. I thought it's what I wanted. I went to a good college, tried graduate school, got a job, started a career, found someone I thought would solidify the marriage and family portion of the Dream (She married a male doctor instead), changed careers, bought a house. The whole nine yards, right? Then I moved to a new city, thinking surely I would one day meet Ms. Right if I could just manage to be in the right place at the right time.
Turns out things never quite came together for me, and I couldn't be more thankful. Seriously. At the time I was going like gangbusters after the Dream, I was at times sad, distraught, incredulous (not in a good way), and downtrodden. I couldn't see the forest for the trees, couldn't see that there was (IS) something else out there besides the traditional life they tell us to dream of and pursue at all costs.
Then one day - I still have no idea how it worked out the way it did - I gave it all up. I stopped pursing a career, women, and the murky notion of home. It wasn't like I said, "Fuck it. Fuck. It. All", dusted off my hands, and tore off down the road less traveled. It was far more incremental than that. It started with a graduate degree I knew would never amount to anything other than debt and a couple good, yet challengingly fun years, and continued with work on a novel I knew would never sell, then finally became seared into my soul the day I got my first passport stamp.
The American Dream isn't for me.
No duh, right? I mean let's be brutally honest. I've always been a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. Sure, I spent the majority of my life resisting the norm - some was purposeful, but most was just the way I am, the way I've always been. To a large extent I never cared whether I truly fit in, but I always kinda wanted to. Be normal, I mean. Be like everyone else. Living the American Dream was something that would accomplish that and I never, ever questioned the insanity of it all. I just figured I do it a little differently - with a woman - and if anyone cared, they could fuck themselves.
I have no idea why it took so long to figure out. I guess I had to go nearly insane to understand my sanity. It wasn't always easy, but little of value ever is. Right now, right this minute, I am living the dream. Truly. Not in some sarcastic snarkified way. When I say I'm living the dream, I mean it. Really.
My life is a mixture of absolute perfection and becoming. Yes, becoming. Because, look, I'm not done yet. Not by a long-shot. For me, it's all about the journey. As trite as that sounds - we say those words insincerely far too often - my life is entirely about becoming. And enjoying the ride. I'll evolve and change along the way, I'm sure, but I never again want to find myself mired in the pursuit of anything less than my best life.
Two days from now, I'll collect a brand new passport stamp. I may have to pinch myself to make sure it's real. That's the life, the dream, we should all pursue, don't you think? One that has us pinching ourselves just to be sure we're awake, daily, if not hourly. It's a good life, if you can get it, and I have. It took stepping far, far outside the box, outside what's prescribed, but I promise you each and every wild-eyed weird look, acerbic comment muttered under the breath, and disdainful shake of the head (even the spit and loogies that covered my sixth grade locker) have been worth it.
This is who I am. This is my life. And dammit, if it doesn't feel spectacular.
I feel for them. It would be hard not to. They're miserable. They've made a choice, made a bed so to speak, and now they must deal with the consequences. I mean you can't just up and change your life, can you? Not when you have a career, a mortgage, bills, a spouse, and children to consider. Oops. It's no wonder so many people have mid-life crises. And accuse me of having one as well.
I might be at mid-life, but I'm most definitely not having, nor have I ever had, a mid-life crisis. I'm not saying I didn't chase the American Dream. I did. I thought it's what I wanted. I went to a good college, tried graduate school, got a job, started a career, found someone I thought would solidify the marriage and family portion of the Dream (She married a male doctor instead), changed careers, bought a house. The whole nine yards, right? Then I moved to a new city, thinking surely I would one day meet Ms. Right if I could just manage to be in the right place at the right time.
Turns out things never quite came together for me, and I couldn't be more thankful. Seriously. At the time I was going like gangbusters after the Dream, I was at times sad, distraught, incredulous (not in a good way), and downtrodden. I couldn't see the forest for the trees, couldn't see that there was (IS) something else out there besides the traditional life they tell us to dream of and pursue at all costs.
Then one day - I still have no idea how it worked out the way it did - I gave it all up. I stopped pursing a career, women, and the murky notion of home. It wasn't like I said, "Fuck it. Fuck. It. All", dusted off my hands, and tore off down the road less traveled. It was far more incremental than that. It started with a graduate degree I knew would never amount to anything other than debt and a couple good, yet challengingly fun years, and continued with work on a novel I knew would never sell, then finally became seared into my soul the day I got my first passport stamp.
The American Dream isn't for me.
No duh, right? I mean let's be brutally honest. I've always been a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. Sure, I spent the majority of my life resisting the norm - some was purposeful, but most was just the way I am, the way I've always been. To a large extent I never cared whether I truly fit in, but I always kinda wanted to. Be normal, I mean. Be like everyone else. Living the American Dream was something that would accomplish that and I never, ever questioned the insanity of it all. I just figured I do it a little differently - with a woman - and if anyone cared, they could fuck themselves.
I have no idea why it took so long to figure out. I guess I had to go nearly insane to understand my sanity. It wasn't always easy, but little of value ever is. Right now, right this minute, I am living the dream. Truly. Not in some sarcastic snarkified way. When I say I'm living the dream, I mean it. Really.
My life is a mixture of absolute perfection and becoming. Yes, becoming. Because, look, I'm not done yet. Not by a long-shot. For me, it's all about the journey. As trite as that sounds - we say those words insincerely far too often - my life is entirely about becoming. And enjoying the ride. I'll evolve and change along the way, I'm sure, but I never again want to find myself mired in the pursuit of anything less than my best life.
Two days from now, I'll collect a brand new passport stamp. I may have to pinch myself to make sure it's real. That's the life, the dream, we should all pursue, don't you think? One that has us pinching ourselves just to be sure we're awake, daily, if not hourly. It's a good life, if you can get it, and I have. It took stepping far, far outside the box, outside what's prescribed, but I promise you each and every wild-eyed weird look, acerbic comment muttered under the breath, and disdainful shake of the head (even the spit and loogies that covered my sixth grade locker) have been worth it.
This is who I am. This is my life. And dammit, if it doesn't feel spectacular.
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