At the age of 16, I committed myself to the ideal that I would be a touring musician. Since then, I've traveled thousands of miles across the country.
While many of my peers spent their spring break soaking up the sun from Panama City's beaches, I packed a van full of gear, and alongside six of my dearest friends, I made my way to the South By Southwest music festival in Austin, Texas.
On the way, we played shows in peoples'a basements, slept on strangers' floors, ate more burritos than I'd like to admit and drove long hours on interstates and streets of which I will never remember the name.
I've seen faces that I'll never see again. I've made conversations with strangers. While some became friends, most just fell into the liner notes of my life. So far, that's one of the only things I've really gained from my 21 years of living. Some people, some places - they are just sentences in a book that we're writing.
With every word we speak and every foot we put in front of the other, we are guiding our actions and moving ourselves from the present moment and into the future, fueling our nostalgia with past triumphs and failures all while writing more sentences until the day our pen runs out of ink.
What have I concluded? I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I am a junior in college with no direction. I have passions and dreams, but no four-year plan. I love to write, I love playing music and I love seeing the country. One day, I hope to see the world.
Traveling allows me to connect with people in a way that I never could on Facebook. These experiences have shaped me. They have allowed me to understand how small of a role I have in this magnificently large world.
They have taught me that these strangers I encounter - the guy behind the counter at the gas station or the girl smoking a cigarette outside of the show - they have gone through the same stuff that I've gone through. Perhaps, they've had their hearts broken. Perhaps, they have broken someone else's heart. Most certainly, they haven't had the opportunities that they had hoped for in life. I'd bet at times that they have felt like they had no purpose. I'd bet that anyone who is taking the time to read this has felt that way at some point in his or her life.
While traveling, I have learned that it is important not to simply subscribe to a "purpose," but to live a purpose-driven life. It's important to get out of your comfort zone. Sleep on floors and talk to strangers. If you love someone, tell them. If you feel aimless and restless, take a year off from school, throw on a backpack and travel the country. Study abroad. Do something that fulfills and drives you. If you have a four-year plan that brings you happiness, stick to it.
But the four-year plan is not for all of us, and it's important to abandon any ideals that are not our own.
What happens after we leave this world is subjective. Despite our faith or lack thereof, we do know that we will cease to exist. Life is too short to trap yourself in a path that makes you unhappy.
Frank Zappa once said, "If you end up with a boring, miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, then you deserve it."
I have worried for years about where I am going to be in the future, and, for the first time, I'm learning how to appreciate where I am now. I am learning to appreciate failure and use it to define my success. I am learning that all I need is music and a pen, and maybe I can make a living around that while I live my life.
Obtaining a degree has always been more of an achievement rather than a gateway to my ideal job. If I am to own a fireplace in my life, I will hang my degree above it. When I have guests over to my future home (assuming I am not homeless or living with my parents) I will point to my degree and say, "Look there! I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but I made it out with a degree!"
And if I get to that point, it means that I will still be alive. I will still be writing chapters in this unpredictable book of life. I will have made it somewhere - wherever that somewhere may be.
