It is roughly a little more than a decade since I officially left my school days behind me and joined the workforce. In that time I have loved and lost, worked, played, slaved and engaged in all sorts of different activities.
I had a four year stretch in which I made a very good living, a very good living. It was more money than I had thought that I would ever make and once it started coming it was easy. It was like snapping my fingers and there it was.
I was in the right place at the right time and I was good at what I did. And then September 11th hit and the market totally changed and things began a downward spiral. The flood diminished and eventually turned into a trickle.
I went back to struggling to pay bills. It wasn’t new to me, I had been there before, but now I had a taste of a life in which I didn’t live paycheck to paycheck. I had more than enough. I couldn’t retire, there was no question that I would have to keep working, but that was ok.
As the money dried up things around the office changed. The people I thought were caring showed themselves to be more caring about maintaining their place and position. I wasn’t surprised, disappointed a little, but not surprised.
Now I find that where I used to have a solid savings, I no longer do. I am not worried about going homeless, it is just not going to happen. I am not worried about losing my home, that is not at risk either.
In truth there are people in situations far worse than mine. I am blessed and thankful for what I have. And I am going to climb back up the hill to get back to where I was.
I have a few goals. I want a house that feels like a castle to me. I want a library in which I can display all of my books, a place that I can sit and read in. A place in which I can lose myself in the stories I love.
I love music and movies, so I want a big screen television and a nice sound system.
I want to be able to travel and see more of the world. I have been to various spots in Europe and the Middle East, been around Canada and parts of Mexico, but there are more places to see.
And I want to do these things while I am young enough to enjoy them. Of course I plan on living to be 130 so I expect that I have some time. FWIW, I have three grandparents who are all a little older than 90, so don’t go rolling your eyes at me.
I used to be able to curl 150 pounds. I could benchpress more than 300, and now I cannot come close to either mark. But I don’t care all that much. It used to be so important to me and now it doesn’t have the same meaning.
Here is my confession, part of me is ready and willing to resume the workouts. Part of me says that it is time to put the focus back on my body because time is slipping away. There is a fear that age will catch me and I won’t be what I was.
But isn’t that already true. At 35 can I recreate the 20 year-old. The manchild who physically would have dominated me. If I could pull him from the past what would he say? Would he laugh, would he be proud or embarrassed?
In a world of science-fiction and fantasy the 20 year-old I used to be would walk through the door and he and I would engage in an epic battle for supremacy. Physically he would be so far ahead of me, it is not funny. But in the 15 years since he walked the earth I have life experiences that have not only shaped me, but have made me mentally tougher.
More on this in a new post.