Success

I didn't exactly grow up living like Paris Hilton, which I am beyond ok with. My family provided more than enough to get by, with set backs of course. When I was 8 or 9 (I can't honestly give you an exact age because I I tried to block it out) much of our house was destroyed by a horrible flood. I know we lost a lot, but I was mainly concerned that my sand box had been washed away in the destruction. Granted we probably had three feet of water rushing through our living at one point, but I was pissed because my favorite plastic shark got washed away.

This huge life event was easily the catalyst in my urge to become some person who was wealthy and powerful. Probably because I felt so small and helpless at the time. All I wanted was to live in a big house. I wanted that damn Bentley. The prestige. All of those things. Graduating high school I was so determined to get out and become some high power lawyer who raked in millions. That's all I wanted. I didn't care about anything else, just that cash money or how I could grab as many material things as I could lay my hands on....

Now, here I am, nearly 25 (when the hell did that happen??) and working in a school district as a Teacher's Assistant. Not exactly what I imagined, but I'll take it all the same. My job is actually pretty great, tiny complaints aside. The shape of what I deemed as success has definitely (and thankfully) changed and is ever-evolving as I get older. As I get to experience the world in different ways I realize what I gauge as "success" is hardly a shell of what I started out with:

No longer is my "success" measured by how big a house I will have or how nice of car I will buy, but by how many stamps I can get into my passport? How many lives can I touch? How many lives can touch mine? How many adventures can these two legs take me on? What kinds of foods can I experience? What kind of cultural mishaps can I finagle my way out of? I may not have been able to buy a car by 25, nor will I probably be able to buy a house by 30, but I have got to dig up beads in the Philippines that were still just as bright and beautiful as the day they were buried. I almost died in Argentina during a freak rain storm that led us to traversing a mountainside and walking through knee-deep mud for nearly 5 (or more, who knows) hours. I've protested in Washington D.C. I got a stamp from Ireland in my passport dated March 17th. I got to watch a ritual pig slaughter. I've climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I rambled around the catacombs of the Smithsonian and accidently wandered into classrooms during lessons. I almost died on a flight out of Santiago, Chile. I've explored ruins of the Great Wall of China with my best friend. I've gotten lost in Nice, France far too late at night. I've gawked a Sun Fish in the Milan, Italy Aquarium. I've swam in waters beneath mile long waterfalls that simultaneously touched 2 countries at once (Argentina and Brasil). I've walked across the Golden Gate Bridge. I've thrown a surprise party for my best friend's birthday on a hostel rooftop in Montevideo, Uruguay. I've taken shots of tequila in Mexico. I've met some of the most incredible people on this great Earth.

My memories are as priceless as they are endless and I wouldn't trade or change them for the any amount of money (well, maybe some more plane tickets) or material wealth.  Success is such a fickle, fleeting thing. Right now my six month image of success involves climbing up and down rice terraces, digging in the dirt and impacting the history of South East Asia. And that image of success makes my heart beat just a little bit faster and my smile just a little bit wider.

We live in such a beautiful world and it would be a damn shame and waste to miss out on any of it because of some outdated indoctrination that I need a two story house with two kids, a Labrador and a white picket fence. I can work for all of those things when I am ready and willing. For now though, I am going to have fun experiencing this planet we call home.