I was just writing to let you know that my bicycle has had a flat tire since last fall. It's an easy fix, and I have the tools that I need, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. So, my bike currently sits in my chicken-wire-clad storage unit, gathering dust, waiting for me to complete this simple task.
But I haven't yet. So, yes.
Things have been pretty slow around here lately. I've gotten into a consistent groove of work days and laundry days--and I've managed to make an assortment of peanut butter sandwiches to cover both.
My haircuts occur on a fairly regular schedule and just last night I made a trip to the store to buy a watch battery. (Watch batteries, as you may know, are the most monotonously specific sort of batteries, which only people who are really intent on using actually purchase). This is the life of a comfortable, semi-regimentally-routined twenty something. This is the dream.
About a week ago, my neighbors who live upstairs left their music on full blast until about two in the morning. It was frustrating, and after a long while banging on the door and calling the landlord it finally shut off. But even after the music stopped I had a hard time getting to sleep. I think it was because the whole time I wasn't really thinking about how the music was loud or how I had to work in the morning. The whole time I was thinking:
This is really unfair because these people have only lived here a few months, and I've lived here for like ten! If I wanted to be loud, I could, because I was here first! They've barely lived here! I've paid my dues! Loud music is my unalienable right and mine alone! I am tenant to the first degree!Eventually this made me feel silly, and I went to sleep.
I think in every situation you inevitably reach that point of entitlement when you declare yourself master of all your surroundings. At some point there's a moment when you consistently think of yourself as Tenant1, or Employee1, or Loud Music Player1 and nothing else really matters. You've risen to the top and you're staying there, damn it.
And sometimes that's a good thing. You've learned a lot on your way there. Maybe you've learned that the bottom dryer at your apartment doesn't require quarters if you hit the button just right. Or perhaps you've discovered that there are certain systems at work that will run really slow unless you know the right work arounds. Your confidence comes from your knowledge--and your knowledge is vastly larger than when you started.
That being said, there are very few surprises at the top. I'm at a point in my job where I've stopped asking very many questions. I simply replay the same scenarios day after day. I repeat the same idea over and over in my head: I've paid my dues. I'm employee to the first degree. I'm good at what I do. My confidence in my tasks destroys my confidence in myself.
This is all a very roundabout way of saying that I'm looking for a new challenge. Any time you become the big fish in the little pond, it's probably time to find a new pond. I need to find something that can make me start asking questions again, something that can entirely devour my schedule and lifestyle with the promise of a challenge. I will not be satisfied until my work/laundry schedule is entirely messed up--until I cannot find the time to make myself peanut butter sandwiches--until I can be the loud neighbor without having lived there long enough to have earned it!
What that challenge might be, I have no idea--but I'm open to suggestions.
I'll try to get involved in anything if it helps me accomplish this simple goal:
Some day soon, someone will come up to me while I'm working on whatever my new endeavor might be, and they'll ask, "Hey, did you ever get your bike fixed?"
And slowly--through a thick tangle of unkempt hair, my dirty t-shirt hanging from my unfed body--I'll reply, "No, I haven't gotten around to it yet."*love always,
-jim.
*This is a metaphor.
In reality, I would like to fix my bike so I can ride it to coffee shops and parks and junk.
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