Several screwdrivers later is not the time to reflect on inflection points in your life.
One wrong mental turn, and I’m back in ’94~’95 thinking about all those times my academic advisors and professors tried to steer me right, before they held up their palms. Back when the murk of having my head down in it was cleared away, and suddenly I saw my way to bigger life beyond my lessons. To a manicured consciousness. To a poetic intellect. To a controlled lifestyle. To dropping the shackles of my adolescence and taking my destiny. To a real effect on my own life.
I could’ve wowed them, but I didn’t; I had my young notions of dignity, of standing with a raised fist in my heart, and that really didn’t get me far. My profs tried to get the best out of me; they saw it. But I held it back from them. Decided real life was more important. Decided floating on with friends was more important. It seemed so clear then. Really, it was me being a stupid 20-something with big ideas of being a grown-up. Throwing myself into fascinations without committing to them and addictive behaviors before I understood they were controlling me. What a dumbass.
Grant me the serenity and steadfastness to mend my ways and redirect my path to greatness. Even if it means relearning the lessons they handed me. Even if it means figuring it out for myself and then making it happen.