Thoughts from Gate 38
As I write this, I’m sitting in Concourse C of Tampa International Airport, trying to digest the weekend. I flew out here to visit my friend Meg, a good buddy from my Observer days. Since it’s hard to get away from work, I tend to take my vacations in short spurts — fly out Friday, pack as much action into 48 hours as I possibly can, and fly home Sunday. This weekend was no different.
I enjoy my style of short-duration, high-intensity vacation, but it has its drawbacks. Chief among them is the fact that I get really introspective towards the end.
Meg is a fellow at the Poynter Institute, and several of her friends are fellow journalists. Hanging out with these folks, seeing a cool town with beautiful weather, and generally getting out of Houston really made me second-guess my life. Part of the problem is the thought-distorting effects of nostalgia. Seeing friends from college brings back the good old days, which I know I remember inaccurately.
I remember the fun times: shooting pool at Corby’s, drawn-out dorm-room discussions and snowball fights. Of course, in that sort of nostalgic mindset, I tend to forget the impossible statistics exams, high-pressure deadlines or not being able to get a date. That’s how nostalgia works, I suppose.
But a lot of this little mini-crisis is just good old-fashioned FUD. All these what-ifs buzz around my head, and no one can answer them. What if there’s a perfect house in Chicago or West Texas or London, just waiting for me to make an offer? What if I could make more money at another firm? In another industry? What if I bought a dog or enlisted in the Army or started a business or ran for office?
The second-guessing bothers me because it’s close to disloyalty, as though what I currently have isn’t good enough. And yet, I’m very happy with my life. I have a very comfortable armchair. I live close enough that I can drop in on my family whenever I want. I make a good living at a job I love in an industry I find fascinating. I’m in love with a wonderful girl who loves me back.
Intellectually, I know all those “what-if” questions are unanswerable. I know that constant second-guessing is paralyzing, and I’ve got too much stuff to do. So the solution for now is pretty easy — knock it off. Tomorrow I’ll get up, appraise another building, visit my folks, kiss Diane, and get on with life.
Until my next vacation.
In my darkest dreams I never thought I would own my own business as a freight broker. I wanted to be a Forest Ranger.
If you want to dispell all the HUD, get married, have some
kids and you will never look back, because you wont have
the time!