Have you "found yourself" at this point in your life or are you still looking? Were you a late bloomer or did you come out of the gate early with your destiny all mapped out? Do you tend to reinvent yourself often of your own volition or only when other circumstances necessitate that change?

I'm curious about these things because I've always been a little bit fickle about my core interests, and I've changed my goals many times to accommodate that. If I have to point to a single purpose in my life, I'd certainly protest the "single" restriction and say "lifelong learning," maybe in part because it gives me an excuse to keep expanding in new directions and that's what I've found that I'm really all about.

Over the past year or so, I've been reading the evolution of Wil Wheaton via his blog. I found it from some link on another site I was reading at the time and checked it out because I'm a casual Trek fan. I stayed because, while his life events are not necessarily of keen interest to me, he has a wonderful way of expressing himself; there's a lot of his writing that is so poetic you feel like you are there. If I say I can really sink my teeth into his prose, I mean it almost literally – he's so descriptive that it feels like my senses are involved, not just my imagination. Here's an example:

...In the living room, the table where Aunt Val would put the artificial tree at Christmas is gone, though it's footprints still mark the carpet. In my mind, I put it back, fill the space beneath it with gifts, warm the air with the laughter and love of the entire family gathered around it, singing songs and sipping cider...

Sure, there's an "it's" where he means "its," but don't you just FEEL both what he imagines and the melancholoy in his experience of its absence?

So what does this have to do with "finding oneself," you ask? Yesterday, Wheaton described his realization that he had, indeed, found himself by writing and self-publishing his first book. And, as a reader of the blog for the past year, I suspect he's right on the money about what he's all about right now. No more looking back at what was, other than to marvel over how it contributed to getting him to now.

Wheaton is around thirty, I think. It was funny reading his adult thoughts because in my mind, he was perpetually adolescent thanks to his acting roles. When I discovered his writing, it was odd to realize that he was older than several of my coworkers because I thought of all of them as adults but thought of him as a "kid."

So what age is "grown-up?" At what age do you think you should be over trying to figure yourself out and on to actually producing whatever the product of your maturity is/will be?

I doubt that Wheaton will stop striving to become more himself; his writing just screams out that, while he's quite happy with who he is and what he has accomplished, he'd be bored with the idea of resting on his laurels. I have a sneaking suspicion that many bloggers, regardless of their age, are lifelong learners too; curious, seeking, exploring. Perhaps blogging is just one more way of looking at both oneself AND how one fits in this amazing world that we share.

When I was twenty, I tried to imagine what I'd be like at thirty or forty, but all I could know was myself at twenty. The person I was at twenty has not disappeared despite the fact that I've lived that many years since. Instead, she has grown, expanded, and become something MORE rather than simply something different. I can look at someone who's twenty and see that there is a lot of life and learning ahead for that person, but that doesn't mean someone who's twenty doesn't have something important to say and contribute NOW.

At twenty, I worried that I wouldn't be able to achieve; to measure up; to make a difference. At forty, I worry sometimes about becoming irrelevant; about closing my mind to the possibility that tomorrow could be different; about reaching a point where I will no longer seek out challenges that bring about new growth – and that I won't be able to make a difference.

My dreams have changed over the years; I've achieved some of them and discarded others. But the point is that I still have dreams, and those dreams are key to who I am as well as who I will be twenty years from now. Life continues to present endless possibilities, and I'm excited to have so many of them from which to choose. That may not make me "young," but perhaps it keeps me from growing "too old."

7:07:40 PM    

I've been working in my field for about twenty years now, give or take some missteps on the way. I've worked for companies ranging in size from a local one with ten employees to a global conglomerate. I've worked in the commercial and non-profit sectors. And I've certainly been in school before.

Whether due to so-called "mid-life crisis" or changing conditions in my field, I've decided to pursue a graduate degree, and I was fortunate enough to be accepted into my first choice of programs – at an Ivy League institution no less; one with a fine reputation in the area that I'll be studying. This week, I had occasion to visit the school to get my bearings, fill out paperwork, and meet and greet.

I knew that I would be older than the majority of the student body, though not considerably since I'm far from alone in the ranks of those who return after work experience to pursue advanced degrees. Fortunately, I'm only older than one of my professors, so that's something. But as I wandered the campus and met with these tenured minds, the thought did cross my mind, "Am I ready for the Ivy League?"

Don't get me wrong. Despite the years of conditioning to write for business, I can still compose scholarly papers with impressively large words and volumes of citations in proper MLA or APA style. I haven't forgotten academia. But compared to daily life, it's like studying Latin or ancient Greek. People don't actually speak this way, do they? Some of them do, friends, some of them really do. One wonders how these people manage ordinary tasks, such as interactions with grocery store clerks and hair dressers; and this one certainly wonders if turning my mind over to their tutelage for two years will likewise render it unable to cope with life outside the ivory tower.

Probably not. It's not the top-ranked research institution these days, and it purports to focus on application of theory rather than just an examination of same. Certainly, many of its graduates go back to work outside of academia, though many do turn to the authoring of scholarly tomes and research for life.

I didn't want to get an MBA because I really didn't see myself as the B-school type and find the subject matter rather boring. But given how many of our famous and infamous CEOs are B-school grads these days, I'd love to go through the exercise of the application process to big name MBA programs just to see if their faculty tends toward the feet-never-touch-the-ground types as much as my discipline does. Perhaps it would explain a lot.

Cross your fingers for me, that I might succeed in this endeavor with a mind still capable of balance between the practical and the theoretical.

9:18:44 AM    

Some days I look in the mirror and wonder is this still enough to keep the effects of aging at bay, or do I need to resort to more drastic measures? Truth be told, the chin hair bothers me more than wrinkles and it's more of a pointless, losing battle.

People tell me I don't look forty, and I guess that makes me happy. But then who knows what forty is supposed to look like? Can you discern ages among a group of people who haven't told you how old they are? I find that I can't. Though perhaps it is simply a symptom of age; to me, people either look like kids or adults, and number of people who truly look old to me keeps diminishing. Remember when you were in elementary school and all adults looked so impossibly old that you couldn't imagine yourself even getting that far? I vividly recall the first time I encountered a teenager who thought I was a "grownup." It happened in my mid twenties, and I had a good, long laugh about it. Thing is, most days I still don't feel any more "grown up" than I did then.

When it comes to how I look, I continue to notice the changes that my face and my body are going through, but I can't imagine being one of those "Extreme Makeover" contestants. Egads! I do have my small vanities, of course, but my looks have never been my strong suit. Perhaps, consequently, I will be less traumatized by watching them go than women who enjoyed great beauty in their youth.

Perhaps. On the other hand, I got out of the shower one day this week and discovered a longish hair on my chest, and it was white!

Ah, the ravages of time. Some days, when I look at all of the plastic surgery victims that populate television and movies, I become more succeptible to the marketing ploys of all those potions and creams. Other days, I'm glad my face actually has some distinguishing features, even if they are wrinkles and a beard.

6:26:10 AM