Starting from the bottom

When I entered "real" college life at the university I got my bachelor's from, I had a lot of things going for me, like the fact that I was 6 years older than most incoming freshman, or that I had already finished an associate's degree at a community college.

My last two years of college went by fast, and after climbing that massive mountain of homework, whilst balancing res life involvement, working out, friends, girlfriend, family, and work, I find myself at a false summit.

What is a false summit, you ask? It's the point during an arduous hike that makes you question why you let your friend convince you to carry a 40 pound pack miles uphill, you're gasping for breath, your pack straps are digging into your soft shoulder flesh, and you crest the rise with one last burst of energy gathered from one of those foul-tasting larabars you ate half of in an attempt to look hiker-y, your eyes look up and see...more rock. More shale-filled trail upon which to toil ever upward. And wayyy up there, somewhere behind the rocks and ceaseless evergreens is a flatish spot where the pain ends.
It feels like starting from the bottom all over again. Except you don't have fresh legs or an optimistically sweat-free brow; you're tired and emotional and weepy, like the survivors of Jurassic Park.

What am I trying to convey with all this outdoor-sy + 90's blockbuster movie language?

That I'm twenty-six years old, a college graduate, in good health and good standing with friends and family (and even government), and I feel like I'm just now beginning to learn how to live.

How did those successful people do it? How do they get up everyday, peppy and confident and successful-ish? I think I must be a lazy person.

But I'm determined to learn. I've been looking for work as a writer or admin or something cool and in my wheelhouse for about five months. Now, because of my dismal results in that area, I'm living with my parents and working for my dad in his start-up house renovation business, doing painting, caulking, mowing, tree-chopping--and I am actually enjoying it.

The scary part is that I feel like I'm still not being a cool adult. The type that pays for their own cell phone bill and stuff. The type I want to be. I have to be that adult someday soon, but I'm not ready yet, even though I'm trying to be.

I guess the hike isn't over yet.

And I know from those moments, the only thing to do is suck air and keep your boots moving.