A mote of dust

I am an insignificant being made up of trillions of insignificant cells on an… well you catch my drift. If I passed today, sure my parents would be upset, and I am sure my close friends and acquaintances would miss me from time to time, but I have no legacy. Now I know, “You are approaching twenty, you have the rest of your life to make a mark”, but how long can one keep saying that? I’m only thirty, only forty, only sixty, only dead. Of course the easiest way to help ensure I am carried onward would be to leave a child in my place, but that’s not really what I’m trying to get at. I want to do good, I want to help people, I want, as selfish as it sounds, to be remembered kindly. Not as a smart ass friend who could on rare occasions crack a half-way decent joke, not as “Oh that one random cashier person at Food Lion”, but to be a person of import. And I am aware that these are about the exact opposite of unique thoughts, but I guess I am egocentric enough to believe I can make something of myself. Regardless of how my professional, educational, personal life may affect those close to me, I want when the final bell tolls and my casket is being lowered, whether it be tomorrow or thirty thousand tomorrows away, to be remembered as a good man.

The Quest of Self

This may be the most defining week of the next chunk of my life. I am gearing down to the last day of class in this semester tomorrow, I have the two final performances of what could be the entirety of my 3 play acting career, and also, most importantly, I passed my MEPS physical. Soon I will sign away four years of my life, swear an oath, and, come April the 15th, ship of to basic to begin my time in the United States’ Coast Guard. And that terrifies me/excites me/confuses me. I want things to change, I want to go new places, meet new people, learn new things. I don’t want to leave, I like the stability my life currently offers. I’ll miss my job, my friends, my family. I have grown accustomed to life here, the same as I had grown accustomed to life at LMU. I’m scared. I’m afraid I’ll be lonely, afraid I won’t fit it, afraid I’ll stop being the me I know. But although I may be starting to sound like a whiny, emo man-child, I also want to me meet new people, learn some discipline, serve my country, slow the insistent questioning of every-damn-thing-under-the-sun. I do and will miss my friends though, from the absolutely insane shit Daniel I did (one night in Knoxville springs immediately to mind), the horrid rap renditions of country songs with Jeb, to having my room invaded by Batwoman and Blackbush the Pirate played by Amber and Jessica respectively. And also, in the seven months I’ve been back from college I’ve been adopted as a new son by the Dicksons’, thrashed the Allies assess with Stephen Joiner as we beat down on his college buddies, and had a blast in the afore  mentioned “A Country Christmas Carol” and at Food Lion. But I’m hopeful that I’ll meet new people to make new stories with. So what am I? I don’t know. Am I the sum of my actions? A failed student, failed lover, failed friend,  failed… everything? Or am I a ( cue egomanical music) triumphant actor, tender love, Best MothaFuckinFriendEva, be all, end all shiznit badass? Something in between? A little of everything? Me? Who the hell is he and what does he want? Because I’m trying my damnedest to find out. And thus ends a very random blog. And what, if anything, if nothing, does it mean dearest reader? Perhaps it is truly nothing more than flashes from an idle mind.