The First Gray Hair

Today I saw my first gray hair and the excitement my younger self thought I would have felt upon seeing it simply disappeared. At twenty-three I’d hoped to accomplish more than what I have. Others may look at my life and hope to one day accomplish as much as I have. I own three small businesses, have a 4.0 grade point average, traveled to many countries and have almost seen every American state. Yet, I feel as though I have hardly accomplished anything, partially because I always tend to look at those who have more going on in their lives. I blame it on my environment or location if you’d prefer. The south is not what I would call the “land of fun,” but then again that depends on what your interpretation of fun is. If you think fishin’, hun’in’, mud radin’ and drinking until you puke your insides out is fun—then the south is the place for you.

I, on the other hand, have more of a 1950s mixed with a yuppie definition of fun. I’ve heard that term used many times—yuppie—but down here, I’ve always heard it used having negative connotation.  Man do I remember the days of high school classmates telling me “don’t be such a yuppie” when I’d decline the invitation to indulge in deer hunting. At that point I really didn’t understand what it meant—I just knew it couldn’t be a “bad word.” What exactly does it mean anyway?  Yuppie, as defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is “a young college-educated adult who is employed in a well-paying profession and who lives and works in or near a large city.” Okay, so I’m working towards the “lives or works in or near a large city” part, but I fit the rest of the definition pretty well. What’s wrong with that?

I look forward to the day I graduate with my bachelors in Marketing next May, move to a nice yuppie filled city (can we say San Francisco or Seattle?—hopefully the former), gain my MBA and shortly thereafter work on the “employed in a well-paying profession.” I look forward to the day I can sip on some hot tea (not a coffee person) while reading a sophisticated book in a small ma’ n pa’ café. I look even more forward to the days when I have many friends that share the same hobbies, activities and interests as I do—the kind of friends that say “Hey, let’s go hiking later.” How about the type of friends, who are willing and able (only a business student would use those two words together in the same sentence) to go on international trips say to the Greek islands or sunbathing on the shores of Beirut or Mauritius—wouldn’t it be great? What I would give have friends like that. I would gladly trade in the two friends I have now, whom I have nothing in common with besides the same gender, for a few of the other type of friends. I would gladly trade in some of my money just to be genuinely happy. And yet, I wonder is there such a thing as genuine happiness? Even if we had good friends, had a dream life, and had everything we ever wanted would it be good enough? Is contentment attainable?

J.T.