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When I was in my twenties and I wondered what my forties were going to be like, I assumed that by then my career would have peaked. Today I turn 48, and I really hope younger me was an idiot.

…yeah, that’s pretty much sums it all up. I’m hoping that I suffered from temporal nearsightedness, and didn’t realize that as I grew older I would continue to remain in possession of my faculties and want to do things, and that I would have the werewithal (and good fortune) to make the things happen.

This assumes, of course, that I am in possession of my faculties. I try to keep myself sharp via an elixir that consists of equal parts rage and coffee. It seems to be working so far, but would I notice if it weren’t?

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3 comments

ysth 2 July 2019 at 8:10 AM

Noooooo! No great American novel till you finish PCTown (or at least Jake’s first adventure).

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Sings Loudly 2 July 2019 at 9:55 AM

The (maybe) good thing is that turning 60 feels much the same way. It doesn’t get worse….

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C. B. Wright 4 July 2019 at 1:08 PM

Thanks, Sings. That’s… kinda reassuring, after a fashion. 🙂

Ysth, I’m pretty sure the chances of me trying to write the Great American Novel are abysmally small…

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