Meh

It has to start with the writing. That’s what I keep telling myself as I stop for the umpteenth time and say you aren’t good enough…there are so many more ahead of you.

I’ve been saying this for almost 20 years. Almost but not quite. I’m just shy of my ticket to escape. In the scheme of things I’m just months away from my proverbial promise land.

Of course, there’s a good chance that fate, in the form of Saturn herself may have other plans. Worming it’s way through the California legislature is a bill, a mean-spirited bill that if passed will not allow me to take my small clutch of marbles and start life anew. It would require me to wait an additional decade and change, watching my life and times drain away from me, it would chain me to a beige, bureaucratic gulag for 12 more years.

The thought of that is almost too much sometimes.

Yes, I’m not stupid. It’s lucky to have a job.

But I had a plan…nothing too formalized but a plan nonetheless hatched at the very beginning of this stint, right before I gave away my freewill and youth.

The plan was to retire at 50 and go do something else.

No, it’s not the end of the world. It’s not a death sentence like those Japanese workers who walked through irradiated water. That is the ultimate sacrifice for work. My little bleats sound so self-serving in comparison.

But I still wanted what I wanted. And right now I’m angry at the thought of it vanishing into thin air.

We don’t always get what we want do we?

Is what I need really to work another 12 years for someone else? I was hoping to go out on my own using my small monthly pension as a stop gap. But who knows? Our fate is unknown until it smacks us in the face in the ever evolving present.