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?
3 comments
Noooooo! No great American novel till you finish PCTown (or at least Jake’s first adventure).
The (maybe) good thing is that turning 60 feels much the same way. It doesn’t get worse….
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…