As I begin writing my first blog post of all time, I'm sitting in Madison, Wisconsin waiting for my older brother Shan to get checked out of his apartment. We spent the last two days cleaning and moving his stuff to the basement of his new place. Once he gets the OK from his landlord we'll begin the 20 hour drive to Durango, Colorado to visit our younger brother Jared, who's there working with Americorp.
I wish I could say that this is something we do every summer, our yearly brother/sister road trip; but we haven't done anything like this in years. Shan is an ambitious and successful research scientist in geology and paleontology, and spends a lot of time on the road. He's travelled extensively throughout the United States and many other countries doing work in the field, but I've accompanied him on a major road trip only once. When we met at our sister Shelley's house in Indiana the other day, we tried to determine exactly what year it was that we'd gone on that trip. It took a little research.
"Remember Rupert?" Shan asked.
How could I forget? While Shan collected rocks from a railroad cut in Washburn, Tennessee, I discovered a dead cicada. To amuse myself, I gave him a wig of moss and an acorn cap hat. I deemed him Rupert and built a little shrine for him to live in. Shan documented the cicada-king's shrine with his digital camera. Now we consulted the photo archives to determine the date of our last adventure. Our photos of Rupert were taken on August 6th, 2001, exactly ten years ago to the day that we met in Indiana to embark on our next journey.
Ten years ago I was 16 years old. It was the summer before my senior year of high school. Within two months I would get my first job, take my first college courses. Shan was in graduate school. September 11th was little more than a month away. A lot of things were getting ready to happen in our lives. I would graduate from high school the next year, and Shelley would get her Master's degree. Shan would get his Doctorate from the University of Chicago in 2003 and Jared would start high school.
Flash forward ten years...many diplomas have been received and degrees conferred. Both Jared and I have graduated from college. Shelley lived in Japan for five years, got married, returned to the States and had her first baby, Emma. Shan lived in Ann Arbor, where he did post-doctoral work at University of Michigan, and now lives in Madison where he is poised to be tenured within two years. Jared is living the rugged life out west with Americorp, and I'm ready to ship off to Prague in January for my first experience of living abroad long-term. Lots of milestones have been met and passed, and more are on the way.
As I finish writing my first blog post of all time, I am sitting at a rest stop in Beaver, Iowa, where we are spending the night. Ten years ago I had never heard of a blog; it would be two years before I'd get my first cell phone. Now I'm writing on an iPad that's connected to the Internet even out here in the middle of nowhere. Ten years ago I'd never heard of Osama bin Laden or the Taliban, but now he's dead and so is Saddam Hussein and we're stuck in two seemingly endless wars while our economy's been suffering blow after blow. Ten years ago I hadn't ever had a real job, now I know what it's like to live on my own and support myself. Ten years ago I had never been in love, now I know what it's like to love and be loved, to break hearts and have my heart broken.
But some things haven't changed. I'm sitting in the same Toyota Tacoma we drove from Ohio through West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee and Georgia in 2001. I still ride with my bare feet on the dashboard and get toe marks all over the windshield. We still laugh at signs for things like Kum-and-Go and Dickeyville. I still have to pee every five seconds, it seems. I am still reading Russian novels and listening to music from 1978. I've often said that no matter how old I get, I still feel like I'm fifteen. I don't feel any closer to "figuring it all out". I still feel nerdy and awkward most of the time. I still have the same silly sense of humor and liberal use of sarcasm. I still feel a little like a misfit.
I guess the difference between me ten years ago and me today is that I've stopped fighting everything so hard. I spent a lot of the last ten years feeling that I was missing something, that I was lacking, that there was something wrong with me. I spent a lot of time trying to escape the way I felt. Now I've begun to believe that maybe everything will be OK if I stay just the way I am, a little nerdy and awkward, a little bit of a misfit. I don't worry so much about what other people think of me. I'm not so afraid of or totally owned by my feelings. I'm able to be more present and aware of what's going on around me, to pay more attention to and be more appreciative of the people in my life and the things I have.
Today, I'm happy to do the best I can with what's in front of me. I can let go a little of my compulsive need to manipulate everything and everyone around me to better fit my idea of what I think they should be, and accept them for what they are. I can stop trying to be someone I'm not, stop looking for something I don't have. I can notice my feelings, let them come and go, and not run away. I can stay in the moment and let my life unfold around me. This blog is about the unfolding.
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