An airport terminal and a blank ticket

About five years ago, the last time when I embarked on a momentary vagabond lifestyle, a friend called me in the middle of the night and we had the following conversation.

Friend: “So how is Kansas City?”
EC (still trying to wake up): “I’m not in Kansas City.”
Friend: “So where are you?”
EC (looking blankly around the room): “Good question. Where the hell am I?”

I really meant it. I had spent the past several weeks bouncing around the country and was never in the same city for more than two days. In my stupor I woke up without being able to name what state I was in and it took a while to realize that I was crashing at my parents’ house for the time being. I was that far out of it. Even though I know where I am physically right now, hanging out in the home office in front of a Snoopy calendar, I’ve been thinking about the question recently in the metaphorical sense. Once again, I find myself with no idea where the hell I am.

For some reason I’ve recently started to refer to myself as being 35 even though I still have five months to go before I hit that milestone. It just sounds better. It shows that I am in my mid-thirties and that a mid-life crisis is perfectly reasonable especially given the way that I live. But while I don’t consider myself to be in a mid-life crisis just yet (haven’t bought the sports car, dyed my hair blonde or paid the 22 year old to be my girlfriend) I am a bit adrift in my life right now. So I’m hoping that writing about it will help.

I’ve been not working for two weeks now, the longest period of time I have had off since finishing grad school and prior to that only a few trips to Europe kept me out of the office for that long. Strangely, and I have to admit frighteningly, over the past two weeks I have done absolutely nothing in an attempt to find a new job. Now I am still being paid so it’s not like I’m running the risk of being homeless soon but I have simply had no desire to send out resumes. My brain just wants to rest and I kind of want to enjoy the moments that I am currently having.

I didn’t really expect this. I always assumed that I would immediately be going through job hunt checklists and filling out spreadsheets worth of data in order to obtain the perfect job. Except that I have realized that I don’t know what the perfect job for me is any more. Though most people didn’t understand it I didn’t attend business school (and I certainly didn’t leave it) with the intention of being the high flying corporate hot shot. There was something about that lifestyle that always left me cold. It’s too political, too smarmy, too unconnected with the actual business to appeal to me. I went to school to change careers and to find some fun new adventures for me. They would pay well and my photographic memory and ability to add quickly would insure my success but I didn’t have many aspirations beyond that.

That leaves me where I am right now, which is wondering what my next goal is. I don’t know if I want to make one last charge up the corporate ladder. If I don’t like 60 hour weeks now I doubt they will become more fulfilling as I get older. My ability to handle idiots has not improved as much as I would have liked. But more than anything I don’t want to work in a job where I feel like I need to take a shower when I leave any more. I want to do something that actually has meaning. Maybe it is working for a clean energy startup or finally breaking down and working for a non-profit like I had always promised. I just want those 8 to 10 hours of my day to have the meaning that they have been missing in recent years. I’m just wondering how to find it.

The other big realization that has been hitting me is that it is rather silly to hope to have your job provide you with all of your fulfillment. It’s important or otherwise I’ve just wasted everyone’s time for a few paragraphs and I apologize for that but it’s not the entire story. Since I’ve had some time away from the pressure of the office and the drab cubicles and what was a rather oppressive atmosphere I keep on finding parts of myself that I actually enjoy again. I’m having a blast getting to sit down and write for a change. I’m amazed that people want to read this much less tell me that I have actually talent. Writing has always been one of my secret passions; one that I kind of doubted most people would ever notice. Now I’m wondering if I can really have a go at this.

Being away from the office has let me be myself for once and I’ve forgotten how nice a feeling that can be. I no longer have to wear a mask in order to protect myself from some far off performance review. I can just be me and since I am floating out here with minimal attachments I have reached that wonderful point of not caring. I can hang out with friends and not worry about what might happen next. Whatever happens will happen and I’ll make the best of it. I’m no longer freaking over every word, every inflection, every action that might change someone’s opinion of me. I’m just stepping out there as myself, warts and all. (Ok, no warts. How about glasses, slight beer belly and all? That’s more accurate.) And you know what? I’m meeting people and having a lot more fun now than I have had in years. Makes me wonder what would have happened if I said screw it years ago.

I still have no idea where I am in life or where I am going. I think every part of my life from job to profession to location to the big overhanging question of my life is up for grabs right now. For the moment I’ve decided to see where the current takes me. I’ve battled it for long enough; I could use a little rest.