I’ve been putting off writing this for a while, procrastinating because I was exhausted from work or had too much to do in Destiny 2. But as the days go by my muse constantly nags in my ear all these thoughts that I need and want to write about. I’ve been debating on whether or not to write all my thoughts on life as a series or one single post, but I think I’m going to go with my original idea and continue with these thoughts in a series over the course of the year. I feel like I have a lot to say and not enough people to talk to or not enough time to say it all.
I’ve seen some pretty amazing shit in my lifetime: the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Challenger Shuttle disaster, Hurricane Hugo, the rise of Apple, the video game boom, the .com bust, and the terrifying morning of 9/11. And then there are the ordinary things that I see all the time that still delight me when they happen: the beauty of butterflies as they flit from flower to flower to gather nectar, the blooming of trees and flowers in the spring and the way my normally invisible breath takes a corporeal, misty form in the late fall and winter seasons.
When I was younger, this moment of my life felt like it was so very far away. But, due to one distraction after another, my 40th year of life has snuck up on me and is now here. I’ve always heard my whole life that “life begins at 40” and now I’m going to find out if that’s true or not (and even what the hell that even means). I do know that I give a lot less of a shit about things like I used to; whether or not people like me, whether or not things get done, whether or not dinner is fancy or something from the microwave (not that fancy dinners or meals of any kind have never really been my thing, I’m just a fat fuck that enjoys food). Whether or not people want anything to do with me. I used to get upset when I found out that people didn’t like me because I consider myself a generally likable person. These days people can just get fucked with a chainsaw. You don’t like me? Cool, I didn’t get up to this morning to impress your sorry ass. Maybe not caring what others think is the first step, the first chain that needs to be cast off. I’ve listened to other people’s shit for so long, that’s definitely something that needs to stop.
Wow…40 years old. It doesn’t seem like I’ve been alive for 40 years and yet, I have. It also doesn’t seem like that long ago that I was still in my 20’s and didn’t really know what I wanted out of life. Most days I still don’t know what I want beyond something to eat and a nap (and a cuddle buddy would be nice too, preferably of the human male variety). I wish I could say that my life has been as grandiose and far out as my fantasies and dreams, but it has been pretty ordinary.
I’m having the same kind of freak out about turning 40 that I did 10 years ago when I was turning 30, only this time things feel a little more serious. I know the end of the song is coming closer, and there’s a certain sort of anxiousness and panic to try to accomplish the things I want to get done before I die, more so than it was before. Yet, most of the time when I’m free from my menial day to day job, all I want to do is live in a fantastic virtual space where I can fly or explore uncharted worlds or save humanity from some other imagined threat. The gnawing hunger to have adventures in the real world grows stronger as time relentlessly marches on, but my laziness and lack of motivation, as has usually been the case in my life, continuously win out. Trying to find a proper balance between my insignificant real world responsibilities and my need for adventure and upholding my online duties is very tiring some days. Some days I feel ready for whatever comes my way and some days it feels like several days are coming at me all at once. The weight of the burdens is…heavy…to say the least but for 40 years I’ve managed to keep my senseless personal struggle going. But for what? What is all of this for?
Not A Xennial
That’s a question that’s plagued me since my youth, since my first thought about the big picture of reality itself when I was still a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons: what is all of this? And what’s it all for? These days, along with those two questions, another question pops into my mind from time to time, ever bothersome just like the rest: what am I going to leave behind as my legacy? It certainly won’t be my achievements and trophies on Xbox and PlayStation respectively, for the reason that with a few keystrokes and mouse clicks it’ll all be gone and everything will be just as if I had never been. Much like every other mortal, it’ll probably end with a house full of possessions that people will fight over (unless I finally make a will like I should) an outstanding debt or debts of some sort and memories of me that others will carry on with them until they too perish. By that point, perhaps, if there is such a thing, I will have discovered what all of this was for and figured out the great mystery of life. I will have discovered what 42 actually is (for those of you playing along at home).