So, one of the things I decided to do when I brought this blog back from the undead was to share a tad more about me and what goes on in my Malkovitch-manufactured human portal of existence (reference to “Being John Malkovitch” for those 20-somethings riding in their boosters. Welcome). And I suppose, especially as I approach 40, I could conjure a decent load-sized mid-life crisis for your voyeuristic amusement. But the truth is, I’m a fairly happy unit these days. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind losing some J-Lo off my trunk or having a best-selling book (which assumes, of course, that I actually FINISH one of the many literary projects I’ve started over the years) to fan myself with at the latest cocktail party conundrum, but I figure I’ve got at least another 30-40 years of decent productive years left to come out with something halfway creative to be proud of (what about the blog, you ask? I mean something I actually get paid for, pumpkin). My point is, I’m not sweating it yet.
Which is probably why I generally like to focus on others’ problems instead of my own. I get that my happy plays boring from the cheap seats. That said, I have the following neurotic confessions to make:
While I think I’m far from mediocre, I worry that I’ll never reach my potential, and my inherent laziness will – inevitably – lead me right back to mediocrity. Which is even worse than being born ordinary because I would have wasted something actually given to me.
I fear I’m wasting the last of my youth being chubby, which you’d think would bother me enough to get off my ass and do something about it. But that would interfere with my wine time, my habit of eating some ‘viddles’ while making dinner, those tasty social occasions when others cook, and hence, making everything that much yummier. Gets back to that lazy trait I keep mentioning.
I actually worry that I don’t have this huge list of things I want to do before I die. And sometimes I think I’m already just waiting to die. Not in a depressing way, but in a way which says very little surprises or excites me anymore.
On second thought…perhaps I am more ripe for that mid-life crisis than I figured. Whoda thunk it 😉