MY LITTLE blue book

I was going through some old papers and I came across an old mini blue book which I've had for longer than I care to remember. I've always used it for scrap paper, or when I needed to jot down some numbers, notes, lists, etc. ...

Anyways I was just sitting here when I accidentally opened it to an earlier page. On it was a letter that I had written to someone in 2001 ... 5 years ago ... I quickly went to the beginning of the notebook and slowly made my way through it. Memories of those troubled times sitting in my apartment came flooding back ... I remember the confusion, the heartbreak, the depression ... the seemingly endless amount of bad luck ... As I turned every page, I could see the frustration and the struggle to justify my self worth as I searched in vain for jobs - a "career". Even the positions that I applied for would slowly degrade, until by the very end I was willing to settle for anything ... Interspersed throughout, were notes to myself regarding my search and my life in what appears to be some sort of feeble attempt to cheer myself up.

Well ... eventually I did find a job, but it required moving back to my hometown. The move ended up putting a strain on a relationship that was strained as is, and I think it set into motion a chain of events that would eventually tear us apart 2 years later. My little notebook details all the items for the move, as well as the contempt I felt for that person. I thought they just didn't understand, when in reality I don't think I understood.

At that point in my life all I cared about was finding a job ... I thought that was everything, that it was all there was in life. I guess I had been raised to believe that a successful career equals a successful life. The funny thing was in the end I lost that job because of September 11th. (Yup ... our financial backers were in one of the buildings that fell.) What followed was more confusion, more self doubt, and more moving except this time it was across the continent. Once again the lists piled up, items to bring, positions to apply for, mixed with notes to myself questioning what I was doing ...

What's my point?

In the end I've come to realize that a successful career doesn't really mean much, at least not to me. It merely provides me with the necessary means to do what I want. I realize that what I do with my life is much more interesting and is a far better gauge of success. Through it all my little blue book has itemized my priorities at any given time, given me check lists of things to do, to remember, etc. ... and reading it now shows me how far I've really come and what I've accomplished.

Back on September 21st, 2001 I wrote something terrible ... I seemed to truly believe that my world was falling apart. Now I sit here - 5 years later - still in one piece, with great friends, a great family, a better "career", a better set of priorities ... and now, a better perspective.