What Do I Want to be When I Grow Up?
Sixty-nine days ago, I became 61 years old. I looked around at my life, so far. I looked at my recent changes. I began to wonder what the hell I was doing with my life. I knew the answer: not a damned thing. I get up, go to work, come home, work on my house or list stuff on ebay or mow the yard, or shave the dogs... It’s not a bad life, granted, but is this it? Is this my whole future? Most of my family and friends are retired or self-employed or never had to work through some stroke of luck I never had the luxury of experiencing. I hate them all. Okay, not really. I do envy them, however. They can do what they want, when they want. They don’t have to save up, they don’t have to plan years in advance for a trip. They can get up in the morning, think about going on a trip, pack up and hit the road. Granted, nobody I know can do it THAT quickly, but it’s how it feels to me. And I envy that. I want to go on trips. I have had wanderlust something fierce my enti...