It's January 11, 2010, and nothing serves as a better kick in the ass and forces you to ask, "What am I doing?" than the start of a new decade. That's where I am right now.
One year ago, I felt much more certain about what I was doing in terms of working toward my long-term goals. I had a decent idea of what I wanted to be doing post-college, and it involved some cool-sounding term like "artist management," where I'd be representing talented musicians and guiding them toward success. I figured I'd end up living somewhere on the West Coast for a little while, or maybe Nashville, but most likely settle permanently in Baltimore since family ties tend to keep us where we come from.
Today, I'm much less confident about my future. There was a point when I realized something like "artist management" sounds nice, but it probably doesn't encompass what I really want to do. Afterall, the word "management" implies business. That kind of makes me yawn. It would involve dealing with numbers, legal contracts, and other "stuff" that just sounds painful. There's the satisfaction of working with talented musicians, but it really wouldn't have the creative aspect I'm looking for.
And as much as I'm still very interested in my public relations track, there's a part of me that is really just longing to write. And by writing, I don't mean press kits. I want to write lyrics, poems, blogs, maybe short stories. There's even an idea for a novel that's been floating around in my head for the past six months that I so badly want to explore.
But that's yet another problem of mine. Every time I've tried to sit down and write lately, I just can't squeeze anything out. It's not enjoyable to even make a somewhat lazy effort. I want the vague ideas I have roaming around in my mind to expand in front of me on paper, but it's been a struggle. All of this has led me to have a mini (or possible no-so-mini) freakout of sorts, because I realize that I'm going through that stage most people in their early twenties go through. Hell, it's not even reserved just for us anymore. Which kind of freaks me out even more because I wonder if I'll still be having an identity crisis five or ten years from now. I know this kind of feeling is expected of me now. And I'm smart enough to realize that I'm smart enough that I'll figure it out or at least make it by with some level of success. Or at least I hope.
Despite all this anxiety I'm experiencing, it's also been one of the absolute best years of my life. From an academic standpoint, I'm doing more than great. I'm ahead of schedule in that I'll graduate a whole semester early next year. But on a more personal level, I've also spent the majority of the past year with the love of my life. That might come off as something naive of me to say since my life has only consisted of two decades, but there's no doubt that the man I've met is the best thing to have happened to me in a long time. At least that's one thing I can be certain about. I realize I'm gushing (I'll stop), but I don't really expect many people to read this, if anyone.
And, of course, it's obvious but necessary of me to say that my family and closest friends have been nothing but supportive of me and have served as guiding lights when I'm not feeling incredibly confident about the future.
Speaking of family, my mom gave me great advice at dinner the other night. It was that I need to keep writing-- every day. Even if I do have the raw talent (and I hope I do), that's not going to get me anywhere unless I actually put words on the page. And I've always known this, really. I guess I just forgot along the way.
So here's to restarting on the blog front. This is my effort to be more creative. If I'm not writing here, I'll hopefully be writing lyrics, or maybe even fiction. Either way, I'll be stringing words together. I won't dare call this a New Year's resolution, because then I'm sure to blow it. Wish me luck, cyberworld.