There’s a little talked about benefit of being an adult. I mean besides the whole no bedtime, no restrictions on alcohol, and being able to rent a car. I’m talking about not being asked what you want to do when you grow up. Oh, sure, there’s other coded ways that question gets asked: “What’s your career path look like?” “Where do you see yourself in five years?” “So? When are you going start having kids?” (Seriously, don’t ever ask that question. Ever)

But you cross that threshold into being an adult and there’s no guidance counselor. Sure, parents will still ask now and then, but even that tapers off. Either they’ll eventually stop asking, or they won’t be around to ask forever. And even when these questions get asked we’re often too busy to really stop and reflect on the question. Adulting is time consuming! Right off the bat get a job, figure out transportation, find a place to live, find a person to live with, negotiate what the shape of your family is going to look like, keep working, get that new job, new car, new dog, new child, mind the job, fix the car, walk the dog, feed the child, lather, rinse repeat.

It is a grind.

It really seems superfluous to ask “What do you want to do when you grow up” when you’ve already grown up, right?

Get in the time machine, we’re going on a trip. I’m setting the way-back dial to December 10, 1991. Ready? Hold on to something — it’s a disorienting ride and I’m not responsible if you get sick. Alright, here comes 88 miles per hour…

“My name is Jordy. Jordy Jensky,” I told her as I extended my hand which she shook as she replied, “I’m Nancy, Nancy Marshall.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss,” and I truly was, for she was beautiful. “And what, might I ask brings you to Astoria?”
“I have family there. I haven’t seen them for years and I’m frankly too cheap to fly,” that answered my next question, “so, what brings you to Astoria,” she returned.
“Oh, it’s a long story, you don’t want to hear it.”
“But it is a long trip, and I am a wonderful listener. Please, tell me exactly why you are here now.”
 A lady that wants to hear me talk and is beautiful- I figured I had died and gone to heaven. “Well, it all began my junior year in high school. Mr. Green was my English teacher and we studied Huck Finn. Well, he had us do this paper on what our ideal life would be. I liked what I wrote so much that I decided to live it. After graduating U.C. Santa Cruz, I decided that the life of the typical nine to fiver wasn’t for me, so I headed out for a life of travel, meager jobs, and writing.”

 Aaaaand, that’s enough of that for now. I came across this essay right around when I turned 40, and it was absolutely wonderful. And terrible. Wonderble? Terriful? Whatever, that was written by that guy up there in the selfie. At my friend Rosie’s suggestion I made a couple stabs at writing that same essay now, but, you know, what’s my ideal life when, let’s say 50. Because, that question of “What do you want to do when you grow up?” still applies until you’re doing that thing. And 16-year-old Jordy had two out of three things right: I do want to travel. And more than anything, I want to write. That’s why I’m here, after all, regularly updating my blog long after the tidal wave of blogs crashed along the internet shore dragging personal narratives back out to sea by the thousands. That right there? That’s my passive aggressive way of saying, “Jordy, do you really think you can write?” Hold that thought.

I’ve seen some dark days. There were days when I didn’t know whether my significant other would live another day. I vividly remember that day in ’91 (speaking of 1991…) when I said goodbye to my dad for the last time and much more recently, just four years ago when I had to say goodbye to my mom. I remember not walking for most of a year. During those times I managed to come up with something of a mantra: Tomorrow will be better than today. It’s very simple and concise. Yet those words hold so much power. And hope.

Bad day? Tomorrow will be better than today. Okay… that’s positive.

Great day? Tomorrow will be better than today. Hell, yeah!

“Jordy, do you really think you can write?” Tomorrow will be better than today. Stay tuned: I’m going to keep getting better.

Seriously, that cockiness makes me smile, but it’d be ridiculously disengenuous for me to end it there, even if I really want to. Let me ask that question once more: “Jordy, do you really think you can write?”

I don’t really care. I’m having a hell of a time trying. And, yes, tomorrow will be better than today. So, yeah, do stay tuned! Who knows, maybe I’m bound for Astoria, Oregon!