A Place for Everything

I've always felt like there's something missing or misplaced about me. Growing up, I'd see my friends' parents and notice that they'd figured out something that was wholly lost on my own parents: how to invest money, how to decorate their house fashionably, how to stay within their budgets, how to speak English eloquently, et al. It seemed to me that my friends were at an advantage. They had been brought up in a household where something essential to survival had been known and understood; they'd learn those skills and apply them to life whereas I'd have to teach myself these life lessons and inevitably lose my way now and again.

I'd watch friends who come from advantaged households; they seemed to gain their footing in life sooner. They'd know what they wanted, and they'd narrow down their choices of life experience. Almost innately, it seemed, they knew their chosen fields and how to excel at them. People like me - whose own parents knew little about "how to make things work here," wherever "here" was or what "work" meant - needed time to find their footing.

This made for completely different life experiences and perspectives. Whereas my "made" counterparts were diligently working towards their goals and could spot out the diversions to their futures, I was left wondering which life path would suit me best. My parents had come to the States so that I could have more opportunities, and I needed time and experience to figure out which opportunities I wanted to claim. There was no plan. No blueprints. No way to know off the bat what was right or wrong or successful or failing. In this world of unknowns, every day's happiness was a subjective inventing of imagination and limited resources.

Deeply aware of what I was lacking, I spent a lot of my adolescence making up for my shortcomings. I was a model student before I realized that being a model student is supposed to be difficult. I was a dreamer before I realized that rebellion and cool are tied so tightly to lofty aspirations. I was a wanderer - just because.

Looking back, there are so many holes to my life story, so many potholes and complete delusions that were fed to me by necessity or improvization. Half-truths and full-out-lies that I believed in order to keep on going, to not stop, to not look back or falter or feel bad about myself and my limited resources.

But as is often the case (I think), my problems and mistakes worked themselves out like the montage of shopping sprees and study sessions after the climax of a feel-good movie.

Now, here I am, 23 years old, with a million actions, indescretions and adventures under my belt, and a million more to go. With every day that passes, my personality and my goals are cemented by a gained knowledge about who I am, what I am, and what I need to do in order to look myself in the mirror.

Imagine my surprise when, last night, I talked to Indecisive Artist about my life and realized that the dust has settled and I've joined my friends - the ones who were brought up with a true sense of what's what and who's who.

No longer curious about those trivialities that are supposed to be givens - those bits of information that upon introspection seem so definite and obvious that we must know them off the bat - my life has begun to take on a universally understood kind of good. There is artistry in my motives, in the way my mind works, in the mistakes and shortcomings that I find myself a victim of.

I look at my new circumstances with new eyes and notice amazing facts: I'm getting paid for being the best version of myself; I wouldn't change my living arrangement at this moment for anything; my friends and my lovers are quantified and qualified. My life is full. There is little wiggle room for unnecessary or doubtful bits. Now, there's only room to go up and out, like a grand and magical balloon of mystery and awesomeness.