I went to a lil’ muppet thing with my friend Esther last weekend. The one of the strangest and most satisfying parts of the whole day was at the Lebanese place where we had lunch. We were just having a fairly normal conversation, and I was explaining to her that this summer’s job made me realize that the type of job I would really enjoy having would be something very simple and customer service oriented – like driving a bus part time.

As I was explaining this, I found myself digging deeper into the reasons why I felt so… liberated upon realizing my dream of someday driving a bus part time. “I think the thing is,” I said, “that when you’re growing up (and all throughout college) everyone has these really high aspirations for you. Like, you’re going to become something great. But that’s really rare. Greatness, I mean. There are very few people who become great and do great things.”

I mean, there are only so many people that can be successful entrepreneurs, only so much room for only so many righteous causes, and only so many people who can call themselves upper-middle class. Continuing my rant, I expounded a bit more: “I think I decided that what I like the best about myself isn’t something that’s going to make me great. And I’m okay with that. I think I would rather be great in my own mediocrity than suffer the burden of having to do all of these really great things all the time.”

Esther smiled, started laughing and said, “Oh my god, you’re growing up.”

I laughed too, because I knew it was true. I felt it. I felt myself maturing. That emotion, coupled with the thought I had a brunch last weekend has really made me think about how I define myself in a different way. In the midst of my homemade denver omelet and fried bratwurst I thought: 

“You know seefox, you lead a pretty happy little life.”

And you know what? I’m alright with that.