July 4: Thinking about my life

It's time to dig deep, to truly try to understand what wends itself through my head as each day, each 24-hour capsule, passes.

I'm more than 23 and a half years old, and yet I feel old. That can't be a good thing. I constantly reminisce about the good ole days, when — obviously — I should be considering the world of opportunities in front of me. I am full of regrets, which I know I can do nothing about.

High school. College. I now know I didn't come close to making the most out of those opportunistic eight years. In high school I was shy and afraid — scared to take chances, such as try out for the sport I had always loved, baseball. I didn't partake in any of the events that are featured in high school collages — the prom, homecoming, school sports.

Those voids left me nervous during my search for the perfect college. Instead of truly considering what school would be best for my academic interests, I went with the institution — Albion College — where I felt most comfortable during my visits (the blueberry muffins were simply ravishing). And then I snuffed out my first three years of college with a bevy of homework, newspaper work and work work. It took a trip to the other side of the world — Sydney, Australia, to be exact — for me to realize just how special and unique the college years are. Unfortunately, that was my senior year, and my final semester passed quicker than an hour's sleep. I enjoyed it, but before I could soak it up, it was complete. I stood in the grass of Albion's quad, holding a black diploma, surrounded by family and a few friends, wondering, "What next?"

Now, nearly two months later, I'm in a rut, which I'm having a hard time getting out of. I'm living at home, commuting 40 minutes each evening to Jackson for part-time newspaper work, delivering papers during the day for the Ann Arbor News, and spending most of my free time reading, sleeping and eating. I know this isn't healthy. I know I need to take charge of my life. But I'm having a hard time following these thoughts.

I feel as though I'm an emotional rollercoaster. On the way to Muskegon this past weekend to visit friends, I felt excited, enthused by the plethora of possibilities that lay ahead of me in life. As I cruised west on I-96 late on a Friday night, with the radio blaring the latest raunchy hip-hop beats, I felt as if I was at a large candy shop, with juicy lolly pops and crunchy chocolate bars displayed on endless shelves in front of me.

But this feeling didn't last. Two nights later, after watching "Blood Diamond" before bed, I couldn't fall asleep. I was as restless as I'd been in quite sometime, and it wasn't because of the violence that dominated the movie I'd just watched. The weekend had been depressing. I hadn't done anything right. I'd lost two tennis matches and three ping-pong matches, costing me a $50-plus dinner check on Saturday night and two Tigers tickets for later this season. It wasn't just my losses that had me distraught, however. It was the sense that I couldn't succeed, that whenever I sensed a twinge of momentum, it turned on me and I couldn't do a thing to slow it down.

In the second tennis match, I won the first set quite handedly, 6-2. But then — about three games into the second set — I suddenly couldn't hit a hard forehand, my biggest strength, in bounds. Every one of my strong forehands sailed long or wide. In a matter of minutes, I lost all my confidence in that shot. That killed me. Without my greatest weapon, I couldn't hold off the opponent. I didn't have a winning shot. I could volley back and forth with him, using weak drop shots, but I couldn't end a point myself. I had to rely on him making mistakes.

I think the tennis match was indicative of where I am right now in life. I see great possibilities. Through reading, I know of all the great things people are doing throughout the world, and I want to be a part of such things. "Blood Diamond" showed how a journalist helped bring an African country out of an awful, barbarous civil war. I want to make an impact on society with my sports writing, and I know I'm capable of it. I just finished reading "Hurricane," the book about Rubin "The Hurricane" Carter's battle for freedom in New Jersey. The former boxer was wrongfully convicted — twice — of committing a triple murder. But he, his lawyers and a dedicated group of Canadian activists persevered and eventually freed Carter. It just went to show that if enough effort is put in, things can be turned around.

I know deep inside what I'm capable of. Yet something still holds me back. Maybe it's a lack of confidence. Maybe it's an inherent laziness borne from growing up in a relatively stress-free environment (middle-class, two parents, no crime, no bullies, no financial troubles). Whatever it is, I need to break out of it and realize my full potential. I'm beginning to think that will mean a change of location. I'm ready to leave everything I have here — my good part-time job in Jackson, my family, my friends, Michigan sports, the Tigers — to look for a fresh start in Chapel Hill alongside my cousin, J-bo. As sad as this might sound, I think I need someone similar in age and interests (that would be J-bo) to push me on a daily basis. I need structure in my life, and the more I think about it, the more I think I might be able to find it in Chapel Hill.

Nothing is set. I still don't hold concrete plans to move. But it's certainly in my mind. Something needs to happen to bring me the kind of consistent happiness that's been lacking for quite some time now.