I’m sitting at McAlister’s Deli in Norman, OK, thinking about how much more I can procrastinate before getting back to work on my summer school homework. I need to get some thoughts out of my head before I get back to work. Writing them down will help me brush them out of my head later as I work. I know my life looks great on paper – that it looks like I’m this guy who’s got it all together and planned out – but lately I hate looking at all these plans I’ve got because they don’t account for surprises; there are no adventures. I haven’t been able to shake the urge to either backpack Europe, spend some time sailing the Caribbean, scaling the Andes, or trekking across Australia and New Zealand. If I have to spend another year in Oklahoma with things as mundane and expected as they’ve been, I’m going to go out of my mind.
There are so many things I want to do in my life. Medicine will be my career, but what of the rest of my life? Where’s my grand adventure? Where’s my incredible quest? What of my scandalous affair with a bronzed, mysterious Basque woman in France? Where is the enthralling story I’ll write about or share with my children? I’m missing something and neither school, nor church, nor work has been able to give me what I’m craving. Yearning isn’t the appropriate word. For some reason I equate that word with sex, i.e. “a yearning in her loins.”
I’m dying to find my niche. What will I be remembered for? I can contribute all I want to the success of society, but what can I claim wholly as mine? I’ve done everything for the benefit of society, but I have no exceptional stories and no unforgettable exploits to boast of.
When will I catch my break?
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