Radioactive.

Today, I have a little story for anyone who is reading.

Here goes.

Last month, I was sitting on break from my job talking to a friend. This friend of mine isn’t like many of the people I know at work, and I like that. Plus, there is just something about him that makes me think about things, but that is beside the point. Anyway, in a rare moment of seriousness, he asked me why I left New York City each month and came back to work at the local supermarket.  I don’t even remember what I said to him at the time, but I know it was some lame joke or vague statement…my two specialties to avoid saying what is actually on my mind. So anyways, I could not help but keep thinking about what the real answer to that very question was. What the hell was I doing coming back to my less-than-spectacular hometown to work my less-than-spectacular job? I thought about this the rest of my shift. I thought about it on the ride back to New York. And, I am thinking about it right now. Well, I think I finally have a real honest-to-god answer. I go back once a month to work at a supermarket because I think I am desperate in a way for familiarity at this point of my life. There are so many times during the week that I sit down, map out exactly what is going on, and feel like I am running down a hill, and I am going at such a high velocity that I feel as if my legs are going to give out at any second and I am going to just wipe out. There are so many things I feel as if I am doing wrong already…Spending too much money, not focusing enough on work, not experiencing enough of the city. Who knows what will go next? This is daily life in the big city for a newbie college kid. At my mundane job though, I know exactly what is going to happen next. I have no choices to make. I do as I’m told. I talk to people and see how life is at home, and am always surprised to find out things aren’t changing nearly as quickly as they are for me. It is like a guilty pleasure of mine. Sure, I complain about it so much, and I count down the minutes until I am able to clock out, but I love it. I love that I know who I am there, and what I am supposed to do….Much of the reason I am always so ready to go back home.

The point of this is that I love this almost Yoda-like wisdom I am gaining from these points of misery and exhaustion and confusion…Call me a masochist. Call me a contradiction. But I know that I am just a kid trying really hard every single day to find out exactly where I belong in this world. And the one thing I am finding out the most quickly is to never take anything whatsoever for granted because you will scold yourself for it later.

And. High school kids have it so goddamn easy that it is almost blasphemous. 

That’s it for now.