29 and Counting

At the time of this writing, I’m a little under 2 hours into my 29th year of life. Every birthday, I always take a moment to reflect on the past and wax philosophical, trying to find the meaning in life. I think I’m old enough to understand that there is no meaning. There’s just life. And you only get one so spend your time wisely. That, I think, more than anything else leaves me a little disappointed and a little bitter.

I’m disappointed because I look back on the things I’ve done that didn’t bring me joy. To a small extent, I include work in that, but not completely, because you can’t really escape a day job, so I’ll let it slide. I’m talking more about the things that I had a choice in doing, and instead of taking the time to evaluate the action, I just went with the flow and ended up wasting my time. Let’s not forget all of the other times I was “relaxing” or “decompressing,” telling myself that I needed that time to myself, when in reality I was just anesthetizing myself from responsibility and effort.

Then there’s the bitter part, which includes the times that I did try my very best, played by the rules, followed the sure path to success. Yet, it all led to failure. How is that fair? It’s not. It’s that simple. But that’s life. Just when you think you have it figured out, an exception comes along and craps all over your rules.

I wish I was farther along in my writing career.

I’m also thinking about some slight modifications to this blog. I wanted it to be my professional site where you could come and read my work, but I also wanted it to be useful: a tool other starting writers could use to learn a bit about the craft. At this point, I feel like it’s more personal stuff than professional.

I want to change that.

Well, that’s it for me. I’m taking the day off to get my driver’s license renewed and have lunch with my mom.