So I wrote this one year ago, and it's a bit of a trip to go back and read it. It's odd, because I know that guy, and he even sounds a lot like me. But there is an undercurrent there, a suggestion that maybe, he is trying to convince someone of something. Maybe, he doesn't quite believe in what he's doing, so he needs to sell it. And that isn't me, not now.
This, then, is what it feels like to be 24. It's an age that's strikingly present. In the past, I worried about what I might become; in the future, perhaps I'll think back on what was. But for now? Well, now is all there is. 24 feels like the age were you go about being who you want to be, rather than becoming that person.
But I don't know. That implies a sense of false permanence, and probably, a lack of perspective. I'm not done growing, becoming, etc. Certainly, I hope I'm not. But there is a lack of anxiety about things, these days, a lack of the neurosis that filled my post from a year ago.
I am doing the things I want, better now than ever before. My latte art has improved to the point where Roast Magazine has tweeted a pic of my "bird in the cup", which flattered the hell out of me. Business is good, and I'd like to think that I've helped that become the case, since becoming "manager". (Which still sounds absurd to call myself. "Barista+paperwork" is a better title, I think.) And I'm wiping off counters much better, which pretty much accounts for my coffee bar related goals for my 23rd year on Earth.
There's also the running thing, of course, which has taken on an increasingly large role in this blog. At one point, I tried to resist that, but have since given up. It's gone from something I enjoy doing to something I have to do, a part of myself I can't imagine being without. In that regard, it's like my being a barista. Both are hats I can't fathom not wearing. Anyway, this has been a good year for running. I've won some short stuff, finished two ultras and one marathon. This year is going to be about improving, and hopefully, competing. I want to look back at this post in one year, and know that this goal was stated, and then met.
Of course, that's all well and good, but doesn't make for very compelling reading. In fact, I'm realizing that this is a pretty awful post, on the whole. But I'm going to publish it anyway. Sorry about that. So yes, I'm older, yes, who really gives a shit?
I'm going to finish my cold press, go do some marathon pace work, eat a potato, then pull some shots. And it's going be great. Those are the metrics by which I measure my life, moreso than years.