Part 22: Hero-Worship

If wanting ever taught you anything, it's wanting more (and more and more and more...)

What to do?
Sweetheart, you'll find mediocre people do exceptional things all the time.
Oh, the ruin will do in your talented mind...

-Ok Go

...

I'm in a constant state of flux.

And in the lowest of times, I often think, Why am I here? What am I contributing to this life? Which makes me then wonder why I was even born in the first place. I'm not sure if my soul existed before my physical body did, but if it did, I don't remember asking for this, to be born. Who asked me if I wanted to be here? I don't mean that to be as morbid as it might seem, but really - it's an interesting thought; I didn't ask to come into this life, yet I am expected to be something and to do something meaningful with it. And I can either choose to see that as a blessing and actually try do something grand, or sit here, as I often do, and question my own life's importance. Am I just a waste of space and other valuable resources?

I'm also constantly scrutinizing and comparing myself to others. I don't try to, I don't even want to, but it happens all the time.

I tend to compare myself to my brother the most. I think, Man, if I just had his talent, I'd be happy. If I had his musical ability, maybe I could actually do something meaningful. These are very self-destructive thoughts to have.

...

My brother came into town last week to see me for Christmas. He met me for lunch downtown at a old-world style deli, where we ordered the best spicy turkey sandwiches in town. There are only a few small, round wooden tables at the front of the store, and as it was lunch hour, all of them were taken. But, as I do reside in sunny California, it was warm and sunny outside, even in the middle of December, so we made our way down to the mission and sat on the steps in the bright sunlight.

As we scarfed down our delicious turkey and avocado combos, we caught up on each other's lives, talking with our mouths full, smacking in-between chews (as customary for Chinese people (it's totally polite, I swear)). I let him do most of the talking, because it's a challenge to get him to open up, as it is.

"Sometimes..." he said, with food in his cheek, "Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing here. I mean, I'm 23. I feel like if I were going to do something big, something important, I'd have done it by now. I'm getting old! I mean, not OLD old, but..." He gazed over my shoulder, "Ok, I feel like I'm in the exact same spot, doing the exact same things I did when I was 16. Except when I was 16, it was much more impressive. I was considered a prodigy. But now that I'm 23, I'm on equal playing fields as everyone else. I'm ordinary. I'm not special anymore, and I'll never be a 16-year-old prodigy again. I'm only getting older and, with age, less special. You know?" He swallowed his food and brought his gaze back to me.

I was amazed. He had just expressed exactly what I felt, except that he was, even in his "ordinarity," still a thousand times more talented than me. And maybe that's it; maybe it doesn't matter how much talent you possess because there can always be a craving for more. Maybe ambition knows no satisfaction. I don't want to drown out my desires, but I'd like to, at least in a small way, feed that hunger. So, how can I be happy with what I've got, and how can I make do with what's been given to me?

And can the same be said for love?