Oh, Mighty Crisis!

When I was in my 20s, I went through a period of ... well, "self-examination" is the kind way to put it. A more thorough description would be something like "anxiety-filled, reassessment and self-alignment." Even that seems overly polite as it was a pretty hellish time.

I had all these existential questions -- "Who am I?" "Why am I doing what I'm doing?" "What do I want to be doing?" "What did I want to be doing?" "Have I screwed up?" "Where am I going?" "Where did I want to be going?" "Am I good enough to get there?" "Have I ever been?" "Will I ever be?" "What have I done to myself?" "Will I ever get there?" "Where is 'there?'" "Would I know it if I saw it?" "What have I done that I now see was a mistake?" "Where does that highway lead to?" "Where is that beautiful house?" "Where is that beautiful wife?" And well, "How did I get here?" Letting the days go by! (Let the water hold me down.) ...

At the time, it occurred to me that these were the same questions that people usually associated with the "mid-life crisis," only here I was, as I said, in my 20s and no where near being able to afford a cherry red convertible in which I could seduce babysitters. So I thought ... what if the "mid-life crisis" was just a part of a 20-or-so year cycle of self-examination/doubt? Then this would be my first, and the next would be in my 40s.

I think I'm heading into my next one.

Or maybe it's not the whole icosannual crisis thing at all. Employment instability always shakes the hell out of me. Maybe this recent dance with my job has unsettled me.

Or maybe it's just the summer. Maybe I now have time to think about the stuff that I don't have time to think about over the school year.

Whatever it is, something's happening.

Last year I was fine with where I was and what I was doing. I was almost smug about how I lived my life my own way. Now, over the past few months, I've started comparing myself to everyone around me and away from me. I'll watch TV and IMDB the directors or writers and figure out how old they are and read their project history over and over. I used to drive past big houses and think, "What a lavish over-abundance of space and stuff those are. They're like giant suburban mausoleums holding the dead American soul." Now, I'll drive past them and wonder, "What did those people do to be able to afford those things? I bet they have a bunch of savings. I wonder how they've prepared for their retirement?" Just yesterday I did a relief shift at the wine shop, and I found myself thinking, "I wonder if anyone else in my college graduating class (who isn't married and homemaking) is making less than I am?" I keep thinking, "I'm 42. I'm 42. Jesus Christ, I'm 42." And I don't know what 42 is supposed to mean, and I don't know that I ever knew what to expect it to mean, but I'm pretty sure, as much as I did, I didn't expect it to mean whatever this is now. I've never been a "five year plan," "Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" guy. Maybe that's my problem. See? Apparently I have "a problem." Just last year I was thinking that I had worked hard to get to be a college professor of theatre, and here I was ... a college professor of theatre.

Although, I'm not much of one. Maybe it is just work instability fallout.

Or maybe I'm just a self-involved, naval-gazing doob that needs to start drinking more.

I kind of like that reading.

And again ... why aren't liquor stores open on Sunday? I hate this puritan culture!