We only get what we give.

With the twenty-eighth anniversary of my birth upon us (well, I hardly think it's really "upon" anyone but me, and barely so), I do the customary reflection. But a little...differently.

This past weekend, I did that thing normal adult humans without significant others do: I went on a date. I won't go into any detail, but he wasn't an axe murderer and he didn't have an extra arm growing out of his head or anything like that, and we had a nice time. But that, for my current purposes, is irrelevant.

The important part here is what I realized about myself in the midst of the conversation. We were discussing the courting process, if you will, and how difficult it is to really meet people with the intent of dating.

(This will be paraphrased because my photographic memory ain't what it used to be, but the point will be maintained as best as possible.)

Him: "Girls have it easy. A girl can go up to a guy and sneeze on him, and she's in. He'll think that's the greatest thing."
Me: "I suppose, but it's still not something I'd really...do."
Him: "Oh come on. All you have to do is initiate, and he's sold."
Me: "I haven't initiated a thing in my life. I let it all come to me."

Could I sound any more like a self-important jackass?

I was half-joking. And I backtracked a little, making fun of the fact that I have a useless degree, I live with my mother, and I don't exactly hold down a glamorous, big-money job. Y'know, to drive home the point that even though I might, in fact, "let it all come to me," the definition of "it all" is more like "mediocre shit."

But that put it into clearer perspective for me. Yes, I really do that. No, it really doesn't get me anywhere. Yes, I'm lazy. No, I'm not assertive. And maybe I catch myself feeling a little entitled every now and then. But let's be real - a lot of people do. A lot. Lest we forget...this is America.

I don't have a lot. And I may not have worked all that hard for it. But you get out what you put in. Why do I have a useless degree, live with my mother, and hold down a non-glamorous, not-so-big money job? Why is my life, like, a C+? Because I put in C+ effort, kids. I'm admitting it, right here and now. I've been doing it since I was in high school, when I'd show up late, fall asleep in class, and still get an A despite myself. I've been a victim of circumstance and I've had bad luck, sure. But it isn't so much circumstance or luck that determines the course of our lives; it's how we respond to those things. A more natural response would be to blame fate or the universe or whatever. Or if you're a positive sort, you do the healthy thing and you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and resolve to be better than whatever shit's been thrown at you.

What's not natural or healthy is to be indifferent.

I wish I could say, with complete certainty, that I'll do everything right in the future. Show up on time, stay awake, maybe even take notes. Although I know that's going to help me, part of me still can't be bothered.

It's rather easy to be average. That's...kinda what I like about it. In my head, I know I'm not, though. Even if I can't be arsed to show it.

(It's a really good thing I'm having this revelation at 28, though. I have two years to get it together. There's no salvaging this mess at 30. At least that's what TV tells us.)

I can commit to trying, though. I can commit to a little more initiation in the next year or so. Even if I might need a nap afterward.