Saturday, July 21, 2012

Consciously, Holding Your Hand.

I was feeling down the other day.  That's kind of par for the course at the moment but, on that evening, I decided to do something about it.

I went to hang out with my mates.  Michael and Tim are some of my oldest friends, and Martina, Tim's Italian girlfriend, seems on a fast track to becoming a good friend too.

I had, no doubt naively, assumed I was one of the few in my old high school bunch who was not exactly stoked on day to day life at the moment.  Everyone else seemed to have found jobs, adventures, inspiration, partners, coupled, seemingly, with a positive outlook.

Instead, that night, I found a bunch of young kids totally bummed out.  Tim hates his job.  Martina has been feeling alienated and alone in Australia, unable to find anyone who recognises her engineering degree.  Tim seems unable to come to terms with Martina's sadness.  I watched them both, Martina murmuring about her fears, Tim's face drawn, saying nothing, and I, too, became pretty sad.

Maybe, I reasoned, nursing my beer, it's just part of the territory.  I usually scoff at attempts to landmark periods of life with certain emotions, outlooks.  But, it does seem as if everyone my age is plagued by doubts.  Maybe not ground breaking doubts, maybe just little, pragmatic worries.

But they're worries just the same.

It's almost as if the very first glimmers of the future we all envisioned has begun to become visible.  And, you know, maybe it isn't as shiny as we first imagined.  It's not that it's bad, or unhappy.

It's more that it's not entirely flawless.  There's marks here and there, grimy bits, small chips where the paint has begun to already fade.

It could be just that we're coming to face up to what was always coming.

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