A couple important-to-me milestones are looming on the horizon. Late November marks five years since I finished college and moved to DC. But before that, I’ll turn 27 in October.
Both make me stop and think. Five years out of college isn’t an important milestone, but I tend to look at things from both directions. For example, I left RIT five years ago. I like to compare that timeframe with the same amount of time before that. So, five years before leaving RIT (and thus, ten years before this November), I was just a couple months into my senior year of high school. When I compare where I was in my life then, in high school, to where I was five years later as I left RIT, there’s a world of difference. But in the same period of time on the other side of that placeholder in history - the five years since - I don’t feel that I have progressed as much. Sure, I’ve grown personally, emotionally, and professionally, but I can’t help but feel like I should be further along somehow.
I spent the summer before college working at Burger King. That’s another good marker on my timeline, because going off to college gave me the chance to change who I was a bit and re-invent myself into the person that I wished I could have been in high school. That was nine years ago now. Even though I worked there less than a year, I still remember a lot of the friends I made there better than people I knew a lot longer in college. But I digress: that was nine years ago. Nine years before that, I was eight years old, probably running around the front yard playing Comic Nintendo (an invented game wherein we pretended to be Mega Man, Spider Man, an other comic and Nintendo characters). Growth from Comic Nintendo to Burger King? Huge. Growth from Burger King to now? Also huge, but I feel that almost all of that growth took place in the first half of that time period, during my college career.
Anyway, I’ve strayed from my original two points, the second of which was my looming twenty-seventh birthday. 27 isn’t usually an important birthday; once you pass 21, the decades are the only ones most people care about (30, 40, and so on). When I was about twelve, though, I decided that 27 was going to be the best age to be, because I would be old enough to do whatever I wanted to, but still young. 27 was, thus, my favorite number.
So, next year has much to live up to. Twelve year-old Brock already decided that it would be my best year, and twenty six year-old Brock has decided that things have stalled a bit. There is great distance to be covered, but first I feel that I need to orient myself and make sure I know where it is I’m trying to get to. I’m not exactly sure how to go about doing that, but I have two months to figure it out before my birthday.