My 20s, Cherry Limeades, and Chaos

There's this presentation. An element of surprise in waiting. The endless anticipation of a Jack in the Box when the clicks stop. And in my 20s, churning out my greatest hits and my worst follies with this heightened sense of hope, my subconscious projects a grand film in my psyche that I'm a call away from success and happiness. Maybe my life will match up with the trinkets of good fortune I envy.

It's interesting; with my good memory, you would think I could see the grand composite of life 28 years back where I might think to myself, "Hmmmm. Looks like we're going in the right direction! Good work! I'll give myself the proverbial raise by buying more Sonic drinks during the 2-4pm Happy Hour window e v e r y  d a y...."

But at every checkpoint of life, I keep looking back at how their shadow grows  – the densely fuzzy gray spot acting as the past. Popping off ideas about what it all means so far, or what I can even recollect is, in the moment seems like a profound image. Like a slam poet waxing in his prime, I dive into the philosophical, the comedy, the drama, and the insight. I stand from my stage leaning up against the mic stand with spotlight exposing the sweat on my brow, and I'm deeply entrenched in this near-visceral display of profundity.

And then it stops.

I huff and puff in front of the crowd and then the silence lets loose a light applause. They're lost, confused, interested and even slightly amused, but they don't relate like I do. I've gone too far, but I feel fine now.

Then something hits. Like a good ole fashion reset, life carries on.

Got a raise? Awesome. Talking to this beautiful girl? Awesome. The car hop recognizes you during that happy hour? Kinda cool.

It all somehow goes away and the contentiousness delivers you somewhere away from all that. Security, freedom, and Cherry Limeades to last until they don't. I'm blissful, awake, and practically a wide-eyed, goofy-grinned bobble head sauntering through the day-to-day with aplomb. It's as if that shadow never existed. Maybe I do have this thing figured out. Maybe I need to just chill out finally.

But can I?

You see, in my 20s, beyond the looming great shadow, dangles the carrot of ambition. I'm approaching a chapter of "Well, what did you do with all that youthfulness?". At some point the carrot goes away when the doctor says I need to start taking care of myself more and the medical bills arrive with greater frequency.

Am I scared? Not exactly that. I mainly have to shrug my shoulders and recognize the chaos of our world is all-the-time beyond me. My powers to carpe diem in this superficial could be limited merely by the fact I'm not a life-size Ken doll, so I take what I can get; it's not like that's the only thing.