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Quarter to Life

August 3, 2000. 2:22 PM. Twenty-five years later. Something about the quarter-life sentiment struck the fear of God in me. Am I really at my quarter-life point? My father — three strokes and two heart attacks before fifty. Still hanging in there, somehow. My father’s father died of a stroke before fifty. My father’s mother died before forty, of cancer. I’ve already had open-heart surgery. Sure, they had their vices: smoking, chewing, sitting around. I don’t remember my grandfather. I never met my grandmother. The only biological grandparent I have left is sitting in memory care. I want veins on my arms and legs. I want clear piss. No acne. A jawline.  When friends ask me to hike Mount Timpanogos, I don’t want to debate myself. I don’t want limits anymore. Being active has always been the solution to everything, so why the hell have I avoided it? I want to feel better. Look better. Live better. I want sex to be better. I just want to be better. The uncertainty of what’s ahead flippe...
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Anyone Can Be Cynical

Happiness comes in troves but quickly dies off as it progresses. I've found a new outlet — one that is accepting of the weird, the unnatural, and the freedom of expression. I drive thirty minutes out of my way to get to it on weekend nights, but the 2 a.m. drive home is well worth it. I smile as I watch. I laugh as I greet. I pay attention as I stand. Excitement has finally found its way back to me. I wake up with an enthusiastic step in my walk. The once crooked smile has finally straightened itself out.

Recent life events have given me every reason to curl up in a ball and wallow in the inconveniences life has to offer. However, I've accepted that it's too self-indulgent to be cynical about this life of ours. I loved to hate. I saw the negative in you, me, and everything in between. That's no way to live. Living in distrust of those around us doesn't lead to gold.

I renamed this "hard-to-find" gathering of words Anyone Can Be Cynical because it's about finding the balance between cynicism and optimism — looking at the bright side of things. I squandered a large portion of my formidable years blaming the world and unknown higher powers, convinced they were against me. Never did I look back and acknowledge what life had given me. Reflection and the education that comes from properly pondering the past are the true paths to growth.

I romanticized a life where the girl, the job, and general success would come calling at a moment's notice. I never took the proper steps to work on them once I had what I wanted. I coasted, expecting things to magically work themselves out. In a way, they did — yet their potential was never fully realized. The voice in the back of my mind, constantly reminding me that these things would fail or forget about me, flooded my hopes for the good life. The subconscious has a funny way of showing itself, and before you realize it, it could be too late to reverse what was there all along. It's the hidden truth.