Emotional Precipitation...


There must be something about Saturdays in New England. In the month that we've been here, I have yet to see a Saturday that wasn't drenched in rainfall. But tonight's feels different.

I used to love the rain. I used to look forward to rainy weekends, because it gave me license to do nothing. Sure, I'd read a book. Maybe conquer a crossword. I'd even work on my novel (ten years in the making) when the inspiration hit me. But tonight, I am cursing the rain.

...Because I'm alone.

...Because it's giving me too much time to think.

...Because those thoughts have brought me to cold, hard realizations.

...Because tonight is the night I (finally) realized that in my twelve years of independent adult living, I have amounted to nothing. A net worth of zero. A core of promise, wrapped in a skin of unfulfilled expectations. All hope with no follow through.

Before you go thinking I'm a self-loathing mess, don't. I'm fine. Fine like always. But that's exactly where the problem lies -- I've become content with just being content. I have accepted my lot in life as someone who will never achieve the successes of his family or his peers. I will never understand the joys of financial freedom, and the secure comfort it can bring. This is who I am, and -- barring a miracle -- who I will be.

Why do I feel this way? The details aren't important. But, after a conversation tonight, I realized that I am so fundamentally flawed when it comes to basic adulthood, that it's amazing I've been able to stave off homelessness this long. I am about to enter into a marriage, without a dime in my pocket. I can barely support us now, and this is before the wedding bills are even due. We bought a car that, while a great investment, is indicative of where we should be. Not where we are. We are driving a Volvo, when we should be in a Volare.

When I was 23, I made very little money, and yet, lived like I was bathed in riches. Seven years later, I make good money, and yet, pay dearly for my past indiscretions. Am I alone in this? Of course not. But I had always expected more of myself...until now. Now I just roll over, and expect to get by hand to mouth. I've become the man I never wanted to be. Waiting for windfalls...asking family for money...hoping for--well, you get the point.

Despite all that I've just written, this really isn't a financial problem. This is about choices. In college, I studied print journalism, and dammit, I was good at it. Really good. But one lousy decision to change over to a degree in public relations has not only paid no dividends, but it is directly responsible for where I am today. Call it a professional butterfly effect, if you will. I ended up hating public relations work, and was laid off numerous times -- expendible for no other reason than my obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Now, I'm a teacher, and dammit, I'm good at this, too. Really good. But where everyone else sees a noble career choice, I see my failure to make good on what I set out to do all those years ago. I became a teacher because I couldn't commit to bettering my situation in PR. I stayed in teaching because I assumed it was all I could do from now on. I hate my job now, and am looking to move on again, less than a month after starting.

I love to write. I want to be a professional writer. I have spent the last decade saying to myself, "This is just a job...writing will be your career." Well, it's been ten years, and that Pulitzer is still nothing more than a far-off beacon in the vicious storm that is my professional life. I wonder if I'd even allow myself to write professionally, for fear that should I get a job, it too will become a failed endeavor, and in turn, kill my passion for the only real talent I have. Sadly, this blog is the only place I feel safe to express myself. Writing...about being afraid to write.

Irony's a bitch.

This would all be easy to explain if I had no one behind me. But I do. I'm very fortunate in that department. My family is wonderful and supportive. My soon-to-be family are all amazing people, who have embraced me wholeheartedly. My friends are farther away, but have never been closer. Melysa, in short, is my life. She is a source of strength and inspiration. Our marriage will not only celebrate where we are now, but all of the hell we went through to get to here. I just wish I could provide her with more. More than I have now. More than I'll likely be able to give her down the road. She deserves it. At least I know when we're actually living in the new car, she'll be there next to me. This alone, makes me luckier than most...which is what keeps me going.

But tonight, I temporarily stopped going. I got slapped by the rubber glove of reality, and it hurt me more than I could have ever imagined. When I signed up for this website, I had heard that blogging was cathartic. I never intended to use it this way. But thanks for letting me, anyway.

I'm going to bed. A good night's sleep is necessary to handle tomorrow's inevitable burdens, bills, and bummed out moods.

Sadly, the forecast calls for rain...


Professor out...