Tomorrow I turn 27. By 27, a lot of folks have life more or less figured: who they are, what they want to be, what life’s for, and what they’ll make of it. Married, career, kids in the waiting. Me? I haven’t the foggiest. I’m still searching–may always be a searcher.
Some quick thoughts about my plans for life at 27:
- No marriage.
- No kids. Maybe I’ll get a dog some day, if I decide to settle down.
- No settling down. Life’s too damn short to settle. There’s too much to see. I’ll spend a lifetime searching and exploring, and never but scratch the surface.
- No career. I don’t need to or mean to get rich, but life’s too short to spend it working–especially too short to spend it working to make someone else rich. Money’s funny–it’s no meritocracy, that’s for damn sure. You might work hard your entire life, and never make more than $50k in a year (see: an appalling number of America’s educators). Or, you can lazily take a few risks, get lucky, and mint piles of cash. If there’s a path to riches, it’s risk taking, opportunism, connections, and luck. (I’m not much for making connections, so I must compensate elsewhere.) I work exceedingly hard when I’m working, and will take all the risks I’m able. Goal: to make good money or go bankrupt by 32.
- More declamations, pronouncements. More provocation. I’m tired of being so banal, so bland, so goddamned polite. It’s time to make a point of offending a few more folks. Life’s too short to be so church-mouse-fucking-polite.
- More interesting conversations. I may never figure life out, but I’d at least like to be able to credit myself with trying.
I’m 27. I’m still finding new things I enjoy–but also still yet to find something I truly love. There’s plenty I’m passionate about–too much at times. It’s high time to embrace the fact that I don’t have a calling in life–unless that calling is to learn, explore, discover. There’s nothing wrong with being good at a lot of things.
27 is going to be a year of working really, really hard. There will be adventures, sure–couldn’t, wouldn’t live without. But the focus of the next year is to make the business successful. That’s it. To work my ass off. If I do, and I succeed, I make the world my oyster. I prove to myself that capable of hard work, of accomplishing something. That I can give something the best I’ve got, consistently, for a long time.
Oh. And, let’s make 27 the year I become a photographer.
Benediction. Today I’m young. Tomorrow I’m not–least not by most standards. I’m old enough to know better–but intend on remaining too damn young to care.
