Mother and Daddy went to the annual office Christmas party this evening. Though I was invited, I politely declined. It was such a hard decision to make; sit in a room with a bunch of lawyers and their families, or have the entire house, Bose and all, at my disposal (I blew my voice, but the speakers are intact).
When my Wrinklies came back home, they proceeded to regale the evening.
So-and-such's daughter was going to Wisconsin, Mrs. What's-Her-Face's son went to New York, little Billy Schmuck has decided to go to university in Miami. So I'm told, one of the office secretaries is my age (trying to pay her way through college), and, apparently, was disappointed that I wasn't there; something about working with old people, and wanting to meet me (I immediately asked 'she didn't find my blog, did she?', with a worried note in my voice... well, what's left of my voice, anyway).
As Dad turned on the evening news, and Mother happily added marshmallows to her hot chocolate, I sat and pondered my own existence.
I realized that, in comparison, I have no accomplishments to my name, whatsoever.
I don't go to a fancy university, particularly an out-of-state one; though I travel often, it's usually not very far... our vacation to Canada, in my fifteen year old eyes, was the biggest deal ever, and it's still one of the most magical and wonderful things I've ever done (despite the Toronto Incident, but we won't talk about that right now); and I am certainly not in the workforce, trying to pay my way through community college.
I started thinking of certain musicians with recording contracts, and big selling albums by the time they were nineteen; thinking of that stupid git that wrote the Eragon series (boring as hell, by the way); wondering why I didn't luck into something mega like Emma Watson did (what a lucky tit).
As all of this was running through my head, I had a shining moment of comprehension.
Though I am none of the things I have mentioned, I am something infinitely better: I am myself.
Instead of wondering what, according to society, I should have done with my life, I looked at what I have done.
Sure, I may take two classes a semester at the community college; I may not go far and wide, like my father's co-workers. I don't have to do any of it to discover who I am. I don't need the fanfare to recognize that, though insignificant my life is today, that doesn't mean it won't be something greater tomorrow.
In my life, I have learnt that timing is everything; timing is what got me here in the first place, if you think about it. The time I was born, the time I live in now, forms other times, for other experiences I'll need in the future; whether it's for spiritual growth, or a husband, or future crib midgets, the timing will eventually be just right. Just right for all of it.
With the security and confidence to know who I am, know how far I have come in things besides human academia, and faith in family and friends, I realize that my life is, quite possibly, more significant than I give it credit for.
Reginald Kitty is skeptical.
And the wonderment continues...
Have a song.
Ricky The K's Solid Gold Time Machine
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