The Timmy Manifesto, Version 2

I no longer believe that all the events leading up to this date have made me who I am. To believe we are is to condemn us to our pasts. It’s a matter of perspective, really. It doesn’t matter how you look at it. All that matters is that your eyes are forward. The past can only teach us lessons, it can not tell us which of the million paths in front of us that we have to take.

Why bother saying this? Because I have a fear of a cascade effect. It’s more than a fear of a domino effect, you see. I not only fear one “bad decision” will lead to more of the same, but I fear that those bad habits will spill into other areas. You know how they pounded GATEWAY DRUG into our heads? Same idea.

For years, I’ve been fighting to overcome this fear. It’s ridiculous. It can chastize me from the most benign behavior.

Fact is, what we think will happen and what ends up happening tends to be rather different. Oh sure, there’s some skeletal structure of what we knew would happen. Think back two years ago. What did you think your life would be? Did any of that happen? Some, for me. There’s always something planned that makes its way off the drawing board. Now, what do you really remember in the forefront of your mind? At least for me, the two remain starkly different.

We delineate our lives by the “big things” in our lives. A job. An education. A habitat. Regardless of what happens with these things, what actually happens is quite a different story. Everything with Paige was unscripted. That’s life. Written as we went along.

My crisis came when I could no longer hold to the script I had written for myself years ago. That was not an easy pill to swallow. And even now, I find myself trying to rewrite a script for myself. I think it’s important to keep goals as a manner of distraction, but we can’t predict everything. That’s the reason I don’t like giving myself a time limit on finishing school.

Something I never did with my Script was give any thought to alterior hopes and dreams. I wanted to finish school. Get married. Get a house. Get a white picket fence. Get 2.5 kids. Get 2.5 cars. While other people may detest the thought, it’s really what I want. But, again, this is merely a background. I keep thinking that I’ll be happy as long as I have a companion. Well, perhaps is should ditch that thought, too. I won’t suddenly fall into depression in five years if I don’t have a partner! Silliness. I’ll be as happy as I want to be. I’m single right now and rather content.

I’ve let go of that little dream I had binded myself to; I know I can realize it in other ways. There are so many other things to strive for. While I was at my Grandma’s last weekend, I near euphoria came over me. There was so much I wanted to do. So much I KNEW I could do. I know I spend a lot of time indoors, but I really do love being outdoors.

Yet, as has been the problem in the past, I can’t think of anything else. It’s the ultimate frustration, to try and dream and to come up blank. I dream of relationships, but I’ll realize those dreams when the time comes. I’m a romantic, dunchaknow. I’d like to move out and get away from here. Realize for a moment, I’ve never really had that desire before. Staying with the `rents saves a ton of money. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. And thus why I’m back in school.

What can I do now? And thus I write. I never want to be so old that I can’t articulate my thoughts in writing. I want to be the old man in the mountain. Ha ha, I’m starting my beard now! You know, I remember when I kept being told that I was wise beyond my years. I think I’ve finally caught up with myself. Now that I’ve leapfrogged my own realizations, I’m finally acting my age. Ha ha.

For years, I felt younger than my age. Seventeen? Nah. What is this driving you speak of? I can do that now? Eighteen? A week after my eightteenth birthday, I was shoved off to college. That scared the shit out of me, and I couldn’t have felt younger. That was a mere four years ago. Nineteen? Probably felt eightteen. Chasing minors didn’t help my perspective. : D Twenty? I’d swear I felt seventeen. That’s right, I felt younger than the year before. I’m sure my writing progressed in the points I was making, but I know how static I was.

Twenty-one. I could not have been more twenty-one. Goddamn, the list I could write! Ha ha! That all happened in ONE YEAR. As if I’ve had the parking brake on for the past few years.

And so I look forward and wonder. Another year. I know I could easily withstand another year of drama. But, it probably won’t happen like that. A lot will happen, just not like that. Semester of college. Going to India over winter break. Semester of college. And I intend to clean up Grandma’s property. You bet your ass I’m going to set some time aside to do it.

So, what now? Now what do I do with myself? Ah, there’s the trick. Not every day needs to be some momentus occasion. I’m going to get up now, rinse my face, and do whatever strikes my interest. Life need not be more complicated than that.