Having Trouble Between Choosing A Career, Or Choosing What Feels Natural?

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do…”
-St. Ambrose.
What about the less common choice of staring at postcards from other worlds, trying to figure out the smeared sender address? Because, I mean, there’s gotta be something better out there. Probably something worse too. But looking too deeply into this option (diversion) is exactly what got me where I am today. Not really anywhere, yet everywhere.
I've lived in quite a few places, known a lot of people, tried and succeeded at a lot of things, tried and failed at even more things, and, somehow, quit more things than I've started or attempted. I know I sound like a total slacker, but I guess that's on purpose, because as other posts I will add over time will come to prove, I've had a lot of success and experience in life as well, but for now, think of me as a slacker. But, I do consider the future at times: I often wonder what it’ll be like once the classic idea of flying cars that were envisioned by previous generations are finally realized. I wonder what the traffic situation will be like. The straight line will become an artifact of laughable relevance, like the silent films of old. Or, maybe like the jokes within those silent films.
But, for now, there’s plenty of traffic on the freeway.
Horns blow behind me, ahead of me, and beside me. Hands rub foreheads that bang on steering wheels. I jot down the idea to start this blog on the back of an empty box of cigarettes against my steering wheel.
I imagine being that person that just got a great promotion and is on his way to work right now, on this very freeway. Sure, his pay increased, he’s respected a little more, and his handshake grows a little bit stronger. He’s probably somewhere behind me, lost in traffic, and he’s not too excited to be there. I wonder if his picture is up in the break room. I guess on the freeway, everyone is equal. That’s gotta suck for him.
There is a certain level of hilarity in the professional world. The sheer reality of the reward that the majority of people are forced to strive for concludes to a series of pats on the back, growing firmer as accomplishments grow more and more significant. This is why the working (wo)man must accept this fact if he or she is to keep his or her sanity, and accept their career for what it truly is:

The chairs around the table in the highest room of the building rarely break into the double digits, and those chairs are occupied by folks that live longer and longer with every generation, and none of those folks are ready to share their seat with anyone.

Not to mention the fact that there’s only four corner offices per floor, typically.
But I too am a professional. Anyone that works is a professional. I'm a professional barista, but feel like a traveling barista lately, and I'm also an amateur daycare provider (more on that later, trust me). But I've got the same job as some people that are 17, 18, 19... This used to bug me, until I came to terms with the fact that I'm OK with being somewhat of an underacheiver. I tend to enjoy life a lot more than some of the true professionals I know. I have more time for the things I like to do, which include but are not limited to anything but work. But, my hat is off to those that have found a career and stuck to it, fighting all the way for success or just to convince themselves that they're doing the right thing. I'm not being sarcastic with that last point, I honestly believe that everyone has to convince themselves that work is the right thing to do, because innately, I believe we all know better. But, like Saint Ambrose said, when in Rome... And I think that that is exactly what twenty-something survival is all about. Sink or swim. Swim, competing with everyone next to you, in front of you, in back of you, and swim for the rest of your life until you finally tire out and...
...Or sink, and discover the awesome opportunities under the undertow.