What is the meaning of life? That is a huge question isn't it? Who, besides maybe Oprah, Monty Python, or Dr. Phil; could answer such a question? But what about just looking at my life; what is the meaning of my little life?
When I was eighteen, I thought knew what I was doing. Really – I was, in some ways, more positive of who I was and what I wanted than I do today at thirty-nine. I think I just didn't know what I was in for - what life would throw my way. Don't get me wrong - it is all pretty boring stuff but just life happened you know? I am married with three kids (one I inherited upon marrying my darling husband) and I work full time. So, I could say that I'm just too busy to figure out what it is that is bothering me; what is not satisfied in my life. But ultimately, I feel that I have taken a mis-step somewhere and I'm hoping by blogging about my thoughts, the answers to what I am longing for will emerge. That is what my blog is about. I'm on a journey to fulfill a more rewarding life; one that I will be proud of; that my kids and my husband can be proud of and make me whole. This blog will help me sort it out.
So how does one aspire to be average? Maybe it just creeps up on you. I think it crept up on me, anyway. My dad likes to say that I peaked early when I start to whine too much about what it is that I am doing with my life. Maybe there is something to that – maybe I was at my best early on. Maybe 5th grade was my best year – who knew? My parents always encouraged me, so I can’t really blame them for my overly average life. They didn’t put limits on me the way I know some people feel limited. They are realists; they basically let me know that my life is in my own hands. Maybe that is where this thing started to go wrong; it was left up to me. So perhaps I'll start somewhere between my memorable 5th grade year and today. I believe I need to retrace my steps before I look at where I am right now.
The things I felt so passionately about at eighteen are still inside me, but I somehow lost the courage of my convictions. I still care about the same things. Like the environment - I'm a tree-hugger and proud of it; I recycle, I don’t litter, I plant stuff. But I don’t compost – I should really compost; I tried it but then we had to move the composter; and now it is sitting empty.
I also feel the same way I did then about politics – liberal democrat through and through. But I miss most local elections; I don’t attend my public school board meetings and I haven’t become involved with my local party headquarters. I kept meaning to – but there was always something else to do. The list of my passions goes on and on – I was going to write the great American novel in my spare time before I was twenty-five, yada yada yada.
Don’t get me wrong; I have achieved certain things that I wanted. Or maybe better put, that I thought I wanted. After graduating from college, I went right out and started earning a living and I have now gotten to a certain modest level of success in my career. Mind you, very modest success, nothing to write home about. But, having this little level of success has afforded me to get some material “stuff”. I have a house, two cars and other material crap like furniture – oh, and the middle class debt that comes with all of that; debt will be another blog topic later.
So, what is the big quandary? I mean, I think I sound like a typical middle class American. But yet, this is not what I want. This is not who my inner voice said I was headed toward. Not that I want or need fame or fortune - not that; but how did I become so average? Where did I manage to get off track and become this boring white-bread middle class chick?
Maybe I am a bit cynical. After all, I spent my youth believing that I didn’t want to be part of the establishment – I was going to make more out of my life. I would be unconventional, bohemian and rail against 'the man'. I found out, to my surprise, a few years back that I am part of the establishment, I have become what I didn’t want to be – I am a cog in the wheels of industry, I am a soccer mom who babbles about her children, I have clawed my way to mediocrity; and it scares the hell out of me.
