I’ve fallen through life

Carefully reasoning my way through the major steps in my life has never been my strong suit. When I was nearing the end of high school, I figured I’d go to community college, because that’s what the other kids with no money were doing.

I transferred to Sacramento State because my brother, who worked there, helped me get a fee waiver. I settled on journalism as a major because I did pretty well in those classes, and I’d taken enough of them that it seemed like the most efficient plan. I went to graduate school because I didn’t want to be a newspaper reporter, and my college roommate was going, so it seemed like I ought to, too. I got a job teaching at Sacramento State after grad school, because one of my friends who taught there told me they were looking for folks to teach part time.

And the story continues.

Suffice it to say I have essentially fallen through my life, from one adventure to the next. Students used to ask me how I always knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would just laugh, since I never knew at all, but was always fortunate to land somewhere that worked out pretty well.

As I find myself just two years from retirement, though, I’m having mixed feelings about this approach. I’m not sure how willing I am to continue just letting things evolve with little or no planning.

Still, I’m so eager to retire that I’d do it later this afternoon if I could afford it. It’s a classic conundrum—I’d love to just call it a day and start relaxing and having fun, but I have the distinct feeling this is one period in my life I ought to prep for.

And it’s not just finances, although I’ve definitely set some money goals that will come to fruition in two years, and retiring before that would not be prudent. It’s really more about how I want to live.

There’s something about this being the last big phase of my life that makes me want to do it with as much presence as possible. It’s easy to be carefree about choices when you have 50 or 60 years ahead of you—much scarier when it’s probably 30 at best.

So I’m beginning to think of this two-year block as my real graduate school—the one I’m actively choosing—the one in which I consciously opt for some things for myself, put some real thought into how I want the future to unfold.

In lots of ways, though two years seems interminable when I imagine 24 more months of working, it’s the perfect amount of time for me to plan my life in a way I’ve never done before. I’m not sure I even know how, but the idea of actually thinking about who I am, what I really like to do and how I’d like to do it is very appealing. Maybe a little late in coming, but alluring nonetheless.