Profile of an Extraordinary Nobody

My name is Gino. My folks named me Eugene, after the Pulitzer and Nobel Prize winner, American playwright Eugene O’neill. But my name is Gino. Even though I have been alive for more than twenty-three years, I must say that life did not truly start for me until about a year ago.

I had just finished a hitch in the Marine Corps, and I was anxious to tackle Life once more. Four years in the military, comprised mostly of “hurry up and wait,” allowed me to devise plenty of ingenious plans for my life. I had already known that I did not want to be in the usual rat race everybody else seemed to be in: graduate high school, go to college, get a “good” job, then work for someone else for the rest of my life paying off credit card bills for things I don’t need in my life. I wanted something different. I wanted passion and that ever-so-elusive sense of accomplishment. The materialistic, modern lifestyle of the typical consumers (by which we are upstanding citizens if we would only throw our hard earned money back into the whirlpool of economy) never did interest me.

It was during this period of soul searching that I discovered within myself certain panache, a flair for words, which previously went unnoticed. It did not come to me as too big a shock; I had always been a devourer of literature. Fiction, mystery, science fiction, classics, self-help, philosophy; anything I can get my hands on I would feverishly read and attempt to assimilate into my being the ideas contained within. So it was with great joy that I decided to be a writer (amongst other things of course, as Lazarus Long said:
“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.”) Time Enough For Love ~Robert A. Heinlein~

Now that I had set a somewhat hazy goal, I felt pretty satisfied with myself, smug even. But no destination on a map is worth a damn if the starting point is unknown. This meant I had to take a look at myself: a good, hard, and honest evaluation of who I am. The sight was not pretty. In fact, it was a downright painful, and at times seemingly futile, exercise. I took stock of my personality, characteristics, temperament, and talents. I reflected upon my strengths, and more importantly, my weaknesses. The picture of my Self soon became clear, warts and all.

I then started visualizing the man I wished, nay! yearned to become. I imagined the type of physique I would possess, the style of clothes I’d wear, how I would move, talk, and walk. I saw my hairstyle, friends and social life, the kind of laugh, the type of woman that would intrigue me, etc… I made it so real and tangible, down to the minutest of details, that I could open my eyes and see “him” next to me. What steps would I have to take, came the inner question, for me to go from “here” to “there” automatically? Thus I started out, with a single step, on my ten thousand mile journey.

The plan was not perfect; I failed everyday. The journey was even farther from perfection, more like riddled with potholes and littered with abandoned trenches. I still fail on a daily basis, but someone once told me, “Perfect is boring.” That became somewhat of a mantra to counter my perfectionism. Things will never be perfect and the stars will never be aligned just so. I realized that I would just have to suck it up and embark on my imperfect journey with an imperfect plan. Get the ball rolling and refine as you go along, otherwise we’d never get off our collective asses.

Now my days consist of: waking up, scratching my buttocks for three minutes, doing whatever housework that needs to be done (to “get the ball rolling” and build tiny bits of sense of accomplishment and motivation,) perform my daily practice (I start with joint lubrication exercises, then proceed to a mix of kettlebells, clubbells, and bodyweight exercises. Whatever tickles my fancy at that particular moment,) check my e-mails, then ideally write or study (still working on being consistent) until I leave for school at 3 o’clock. During the weekends I work part-time at Whole Foods (even after I win a Pulitzer and appear on Oprah, I would still work part-time there; I just plain enjoy it, and twenty percent discounts on groceries really add up.)

Someone told me that by paying attention to other people’s Life Models (ie: life is like a roller coaster, box of chocolate, carousel ride, etc. ad nauseum…) one can gleam significant insights into what makes that particular person tick. Some people feel that life is a trap, others think it’s a endless game, still others surmise that it’s just one big joke that God is playing on us mortals, but I prefer to live as if Life is a grand adventure. Here is my Life Model:
I am driving down my Life Path, a dusty road remniscient of the way to Vegas. Once in a while I spy a fellow traveler on the side of the road. If they are going the same direction as me, they are welcome to hitch a ride, if not there’s no harm done. Now the traveler and I can laugh, joke, tell stories and have a grand old time, they may even suggest some detours to check out the sight. But at no point are they allowed to grab the wheel, because this is my Life, my journey, my Path. The moment our directions divulge, I shall thank them for their company and cherish forever the memories we’ve shared. I will remember the things I learned from my fellow travelers. But what I will not do is sacrifice my Path to go on theirs, for the sake of remaining together, nor force them on mine. Ultimately, this is my own Path to walk, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I look forward to being fourty years-old. I look forward to being fifty, sixty, and so on. I look forward to finding out if there is anything after Death. But not yet.

“To die would be an awfully big adventure.” ~Peter Pan~