Tonight I met a 19-year-old kid who is off a similar-but-different journey to what I'm doing. He's backpacking, floating around the country for a while, maybe making his way out to Hawaii, maybe WOOFing. Super nice, very humble, and I had a good time getting to talk with him for a few hours.
Almost nobody knows this, because I didn't tell pretty much anyone about it at the time, but I considered doing something like this (that?) when I was about 19 or 20. It was even more of a rugged adventure. It was even more ill advised.
It didn't happen, for lots of reasons, and it's probably a good thing it didn't happen.
In some ways I'm actually really happy that I had to wait ten years to make this happen. I'm ready for it. I'm able to do it. I'm mentally stronger. I'm ... kind of prepared. It just seems like a good time. So I guess no, my 20s weren't a total waste, and a lot has happened in the last decade. But I can't help but be envious of Ezra. He's super young, super hopeful, super positive.
And no, he and I are very different people. My journey would have been a lot different than his, and my journey now is a lot different than his. But to experience all of the wonder that all of these borderline-magical places have to offer, to get to meet all of the amazing and sometimes strange people -- I kind of wish I had done it. Who cares if I wasn't prepared. Who cares if it could have been disastrous.
The thing about that is: It probably wouldn't have been. And even if it was, disaster teaches you something. And I wonder what it would have taught me. I wonder how the last ten years would have been different. Would they have been better? Would they have been worse?
Unfortunately, I'll never know now. And I also don't know what the next ten years will bring. Maybe they'll be the best years of my life. Maybe they'll be the worst.
Even if they are, does it matter?
I'm gonna go to Denny's at midnight.
Some things never change.
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