Being a three year letterman with one last slate of school in front of me, I’ve got a comfortable idea of how this year will unfold. The syllabi pressuring won’t seem imposing anymore. My resume will add new dimensions. There will be celebrations for victories with my friends. And in about nine months, my time to execute this playbook will run out. The challenge between now and then is establishing a contingency for my next arena in life.
Over the next two semesters, I’m going to periodically document my experiences and thoughts that contribute to building a substantial response for the opening question. There are three goals for this journey. One, it allows me to keep bouts of insanity away. Two, it connects with someone going through this same course. Three, it acts as content on this blog that can’t be mocked in a few weeks like the sports predictions I continue to post in a public and permanent location for some unbeknownst reason.
Let’s start with some context for where I am right now by taking a few steps backwards before forging ahead on this quest.
It’s a scary proposition attempting to make a decision when several possibilities are laid out in front of you. This phenomenon is called the paradox of choice; for example, I agonize over picking the most utility delivering ice cream flavor when there are more than a dozen alternatives. Pinpointing the correct, initial job I should pursue by dissecting an infinite number of options and getting constant reminders of the daunting and significant nature of this decision is predictably a lot to digest.
Almost daily, I interrogate myself to hopefully catalyze an epiphany. Should I pursue a graduate degree? Which one? Which school? What industries would I be happy in? What are the best companies in those industries? Would they hire me? What region of the country can I envision living? What city? What’s the cost of living there? Would I have any friends there? Can I have a dog in an apartment? Can I have two?
Right now, I have a list of about a thousand contenders battling for the lead.
Some are improbable (Convincing Netflix to give me the chance to launch a sports talk show for them at the ripe age of 22 with no professional experience in producing, writing, and hosting).
Some are fun in theory (Bouncing from odd job to odd job until my mid to late 20s where I turn a fourth place finish on The Bachelorette, into an appearance on Bachelor in Paradise, into an appearance on one of those B-list celebrity game shows, and into an invitation for Dancing with the Stars).
Some need a miraculous and substantial influx of capital (Move to the Bahamas where I open a popular beachfront bar named Jake’s. Because the world needs another bar or two named Jake’s).
Some are even realistic and likely to occur, but I won’t bore you with those.
I’m finding the crux right now to be identifying the best sources for help. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have a strong support system in my life. Journeymen who have emerged from this gauntlet before to prove everything will be alright. Veterans who possess sage advice. Confidants who know and have my best interests at heart.
I believe it’s important to learn from these case studies, however, I often times find myself reluctant to draw any meaningful corollaries for myself. Ironically and like so many others, I’m perfectly comfortable with dishing out this learned guidance to others. But taking the lessons and morals personally to heart and letting somebody else’s tale directly influence my own? For some reason, it seems natural for us to approach this self-application not nearly as welcoming.
Because of this hesitancy, I’ve tried to stay alert as not to miss fateful signs or subtler assistance from the unlikeliest of leads. Preceding this journey, there have been two events that have lingered with me for some time that I keep reflecting back on.
A serendipitous ride with a chauffeur this past January was the first. The man had to be about 70, but after exchanging our introductions, it was clear he possessed an unwavering amount of youthful energy. After a four hour flight, I wasn’t exactly thrilled for a 40 minute drive to the hotel. His spirited commentary, however, changed my attitude.
Leaving the Phoenix airport and without any prompting, he presented a few facts on every landmark in the passing choreography of the city’s metropolitan sprawl. He detailed an itinerary to maximize my approximately two hours of free time over the next day. He raved about every aspect of his home with exuberant pride.
The story suddenly pivoted to personal anecdotes. I learned he spent much of life on the road as a truck driver logging more than a million miles across the continental United States. He reminisced about nights in the ski lodges of the Rockies with friends he hadn’t seen in 40 years. He listed his favorite stretches of highway; the roads winding through the underappreciated canyons of Utah at sunset, the freedom he felt in the coastal breeze travelling up and down the coast of California, and the kaleidoscope of colors from the Blue Ridge Parkway’s autumnal leaves could be recalled with uncanny detail.
When I finally sensed an opportunity (and worked up the courage) to interrupt, I asked why he decided to settle in Phoenix.
His answer centered on his parents, who planted their roots in Arizona’s capital a couple decades earlier. He had actually come back only a few years ago to take care of them. Unfortunately, both had passed away recently. He spoke with melancholy for the first time, but when we arrived at the hotel, positive emotions returned as he showed me pictures of the setting for what he called his epilogue- a beautiful lodge in the mountains of New Mexico.
We shook hands. I offered up my meager, insignificant thanks for the conversation. He gave me a piece of advice for the interview I had tomorrow. It was long winded and accompanied by a narrative, but it boiled down to remembering life has detours, construction, and traffic jams.
The second has stuck with me going back almost a year and a half now, but doesn’t need as long of an introduction, as the story can be reference here on Reddit. An AMA response by former Ohio State walk-on basketball player turned normally comedic sportswriter/Twitter extraordinaire Mark Titus about his depression. The man has made me tear up from laughing so hard. Reading those comments had me tearing up from opposite emotions.
If you didn’t click on the link, which I highly recommend spending an additional three minutes reading, the last sentence he writes struck me: Simply experiencing the human condition makes me happy.
What the hell am I supposed to do when I graduate? I have absolutely no idea. While I know these two parables aren’t going to directly author an answer, I’m hoping they serve as opening chapters to a blossoming manual for perspective, patience, and the proper prescription to clearly view this endeavor.
Like reminding myself I might have to alter my course when it’s finally set whether I want to or not. Realizing certain projects that are an inconvenience right now could pay off with meaningful dividends in the long run. Expecting to encounter both friendly and not so friendly competition with others on the roadways to the most popular and thrilling places. Knowing one phone call from the right person could result in putting your entire life momentarily on hold. Never forgetting the elation conversing with someone new can bring. Remembering life is a highway isn’t just a song.
Like persuading me to replace the complacency of watching another series or two or Netflix with spontaneous adventures. Notice the sights and sounds of the walks across campus with some extra attention to detail. Appreciate the environment of a college town and its bartenders for not bludgeoning my bank account to the brink of death when I spend a night out. To not take for granted the special circumstances that being surrounded by 30,000 people all trying to maximize their college years by experiencing the human condition offers.
My plan for trying to “answer the question” going forward? Knock on as many doors as possible, in as many places as possible, in the coming months. I expect from the majority I’ll receive no answer, and they will have to remain closed for a little while longer. Some will creak open allowing me a peek inside to determine if I like what I see. Hopefully a select few will swing wide open and a beneficial relationship will be solidified by one moment of being in the right place at the right time
When I went off to school, I left home with a healthy mix of eagerness and anxiety. As I begin to tackle this task, I feel the same way. Who knows where this odyssey will lead. A new campus, city, commonwealth, or country are all potential destinations. I can't wait to see what counsel crosses my path. An Uber driver or a Bojangles employee might tell me a story that changes my outlook on everything.
But for right now, I only see a vast stretch of open road, and I'm armed with just an uncalibrated compass to navigate. What a ride this is going to be.
J. Nave
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