I hate starting over. I hate new beginnings. I hate being in the intersection, staring down the road, and taking that first step. Granted, most people find that to be a wonderfully exciting experience. It’s a chance for reinvention; an opportunity to dig deep and find out more about yourself; the overwhelmingly endless outcomes. But not me. I think it sucks. I think it sucks mainly because I’ve been here so many times before.

By my count, I’m now at my fifth new beginning: starting university, starting work at Extra Foods, going to Japan, going back to school, and now, starting work at a radio station. I’m sure this is a great place to be when you’re 19, but c’mon! I’m 27 years old! I’m sick of starting over. I want to settle into a nice comfortable middle. I want to be able to stick with something for 5 or 7 years, and not have to move home after 6 months because things didn’t work out with the company.

Although, to be fair, my parents have become fond of pointing out the statistic that over 50% of college graduates don’t move out until well into their early-30s. So it’s somewhat comforting to know that I’m not the only one in this boat. But I wonder how many are in the exact same boat.

How many were an honours student in their educational career? How many have a wall full of plaques and awards rewarding them for their academic prowess? How many got through university on a bank account full of scholarships? How many were promised this wonderful world that their intellect would open up for them? And, how many are still waiting for that world to open up? We went trotting along through school, believing that Earth would be handed to us on a silver platter because we were the brightest and the best.

Well, you know what? Being the brightest and the best has nothing to do with it. Your hard work, in the end, adds up to being nothing. There’s a lot more in this universe that’s governed by random chance than most would like you to believe. People have won everything and lost it all on the flip of a coin. It’s nothing but a big game. Despite what Einstein believed, God really does play dice with the universe.

There’s only one way to get ahead. You have to rig the game. Only thing is, I’m still trying to figure out how to get into the Almighty’s cosmic casino to do that.

So, until then, I bravely march forward. I continue marching forward in some hollow belief that I am somehow master of my fate. I claw and fight trying to settle into my comfortable middle, knowing full well that fate will shortly pull the rug out from under me and I will be starting over once again.