Sunday, February 22, 2015

Apostrophes In The Dark


Sometimes at 2:17 in the morning when I'm on I-15 somewhere in between a farmhouse and a herd of sheep, I talk to my phone and write a blogpost to make sure I don't fall asleep at the wheel.

For full effect, download "Dry Your Eyes Mate" by The Streets, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. 

So this one time in my life I woke up in a sudden rush of claustrophobia from a dream that helped give my life meaning, or at least gave me a stronger foothold on the direction my life is heading. And by this one time, I mean last Wednesday morning just after 3:41 am. And by "a sudden rush of claustrophobia", I mean I had an apostrophe.

Dustin Hoffman playing Hook: "I think you mean an epiphany." 

Call it whatever you want. 

How many mid-life crisis moments have all of us had in who knows how many years we've been wandering around on God's green Earth? And when I say mid-life crisis moments I don't mean that we dye our hair pink and go buy a Mazda Miata, I mean moments where we come home to whatever residence we've mortgaged our lives into, sit on outdated furniture we spent too much money on, turn on some rerun of Shark Tank that we have on our DVR, and then stare at the blank wall in front of our faces and question the direction our lives are headed? Question the jobs we check into every weekday from nine to five, the paths we are walking down in terms of what we will accomplish in our professional careers. 

Everyone does this, every single conscious-blinking day. Don't you dare lie to me or yourself for that matter that you don't. 

We have our moments people. Some of them can be negative instances that scare the bodily fluids out of our system and make us question the meaning of life and debate the existence of a supreme being in the known Universe. Others can be calm reassurances to our subconscious that reaffirm thoughts or ideas that we have been wondering about for a significant period of time. i.e. whether or not we break up with this girl, take this job at the firm, move to a new house in Dowisetripla. We have moments in our lives. Big, small, good, bad, they are there keeping us in check every so often. 

Last night somewhere in between dozing off to Community reruns and the sudden rush of punctuation that pulled me out of the sleep, I had one of those moments. A moment where my subconscious and a bigger picture grabbed hold of my shirt collar and said, "Brock, this is what you are supposed to do in your life. This is the direction you are supposed to be heading. It's not predestination or anything lunatic like that, but this pathway that you are about to embark upon, believe it or not, it is correct sir. Yes, the unknown may freak you out like the first three episodes of the Saw series, but who cares, keep going."

We love these moments. We long for these moments. And whenever they decide to show their face to us, they are certainly worth a journal entry or a blogpost or a 45 minute discussion with your cell phone. 

In a few hours I'm going to stand in front of probably 200 kids and talk to them about why they should go to college. 200 kids that are unsure about the direction of their lives, unsure about what they believe in for crying out loud, and for 50 minutes I will have the chance to steer them toward a route that will alter the path they are choosing to walk down. In a few hours I am hopefully going to teach a few hundred kids the meaning of life when it comes to going to college. 

Deep stuff I know. But here's the thing kids, I love my job and the stress it manufactures. I love late-night road trips like this that let me gather my thoughts and preach to a cell phone. And in a few hours I'm going to love talking to a group of adolescents and giving them my two cents on the meaning of life in the world of higher education. And who knows, maybe the things I say will cause one of them to have an apostrophe about the direction they're headed.

"I think you mean an epiphany."

Shut up, it's late. Oh look, more sheep. 

What do you think?

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