Lord, I Was Born a Ramblin' Man

Sometimes I find it impossible to fathom the fact that I am 22 years old. I am almost done with college. Whether I end up going on to law school or not, I'm pretty much a year or two away from being a full blown adult. I am in no way ready for that. I still feel like a kid, literally. When people ask me how old I am, in my mind the first number that pops in my head is usually somewhere around 15. Then I remember that I can drive, so I have to be at least 16. Then I recall that I graduated high school putting me in the neighborhood of 18. Finally I realize I can legally buy alcohol which puts me at 21, and somehow I always end up remembering that last year relying solely on my clever ways. 22 years old. Luckily my mind works over these steps fairly quickly so people don't end up thinking I am the victim of some sort of brain injury or mental handicap because I can't even tell them how old I am without some serious thought. I'm going to be a bit all over the place tonight. I can't really sleep so I'm just going to type until I get tired. Maybe I will write something brilliant or hilarious or divinely inspired as my insomnia gives way to delirium and finally to sleep.

It may surprise you to find out that for someone who has changed their major in college close to a half a dozen times, I've only ever really wanted to do one thing. Play professional baseball. Like most people, this became something that was no longer a possibility sometime in high school. After a shoulder surgery and a broken elbow, there just wasn't a whole lot of zip remaining in my right arm. I tried to teach myself to play left handed, figuring I hadn't thrown with it all my life so there had to be plenty of juice left in it. You can ask my parents, I really did but it just isn't as easy as Pat Venditte makes it look. On kind of a sick side note, it is kind of a relief that I hurt my arm. I mean, yeah I had to quit playing competitively but I probably would not have made it pro even if I had stayed healthy. Its not that I wasn't good, just that chances of it actually happening are pretty astronomical. At least this way when people ask if I hadn't got hurt, if I would have made it, I can look them in the eye and say, absolutely. Sometimes never knowing is the greatest gift life can give when you fail to reach your dreams.

For some reason baseball was the only thing I could ever manage to funnel all of my considerable focus and energy entirely into and I think that is why I have such a hard time figuring out what I want to do in life. It isn't that I can't find anything I want to do, it's that I want to do everything. I want to write movies. I want to own a restaurant. I want to coach. I want to teach. I want to sing. I want to be important, and I don't mean famous, I mean important. I want to matter to people, now if that makes me famous too then I guess that's alright. I want to change the world. I want to save the Church from itself. I want to make people laugh and I want to move them to tears. I want to be an inspiration. I want someone to pay me for writing this blog. And when it is finally my time to die, I want to go down in some sort of epic manner that just doesn't exist anymore except in Braveheart and Gladiator. I want to do everything because for some reason in the midst of all of my insecurities, I honestly believe I could. I am the strangest blend of unsure and self-confident. Maybe I really could do all those things, even if not all at once. But instead it looks like I'm going to be a lawyer, because for all of those things I want, there are some things I don't want too. I don't want to be poor. I don't want to have to worry about providing for my family (if I ever have one). I don't want to worry about how I'm going to pay for my diabetic supplies. It isn't that I necessarily want to be a lawyer, its that being a lawyer keeps me away from all of the things in life that I don't want.

As I continue on my never ceasing trek toward adulthood, more of the doors that used to be open are starting to close. It started with baseball, that was the first door to shut, the first opportunity squandered. Every day, another door closed, another dream forgotten, another chance wasted to be who you want to be. It feels like at some point you have to start trading your ideals for practicality, and maybe to a certain extent you do. But through it all I just thank God that I can always close my eyes, and listen to that perfect song, and feel like, if only for a moment, that I can be all those things I wanted to be, and do all those things I wanted to do. In that moment is where I find peace and perfection; strength and purpose. That's when it hits me. The only thing I want is to live my life in that moment, and you know what? I can live there, and I will, because that door is still open. So here is to my trophy wife, my dream job, and being the man I want to be, I know you are out there waiting for me, and I'm on my way to find you.