Growing Old and Why it Sucks

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I was supposed to be a fucking author with a few decent books under my belt. And writing for some heavy duty publications. Maybe nursing a decent drinking problem and knocking back drugs: hallucinogens, weed, possibly a drop or two of speed.

Yes, I wanted to be Hunter S. Thompson. Reading his works as a college puke inspired me to want to write and be a journalist.

Great fucking plan, Fozz.

This path was wrought with plenty of failure and feelings of doom. My friends with business and computer science degrees were making big time money. I was not. And continued on this path. Fucking bullshit.

To be honest I lost more than a few jobs because of a shit attitude and the fact that my DNA prevents me from going along to get along. Looking back, I was a complete asshole, stomping on toes and never admitting that I was wrong.

So where am I now Career wise, not in a bad place. I do feel the tang of bitterness when I watch younger kids take on projects I could do in my sleep. Also, they tend to wear knit hats indoors, and I want to saw their fucking heads off with a shank. I will NEVER understand that. They won’t either. And that makes them dumber.

You all know I have kids and a wife and they are the center of my life. That’s a great thing because they are healthy and happy and amaze me every day I am alive. Losing them would kill me.

But, what about ME? Well, I’m medicated for anxiety and depression. I see a counselor a few times every month. She is amazing and has kept me relatively sane. There are days when I realize that I’m a white, middle class suburban dude who drives his kids to sports; frets about money; and looks forward to getting hammered – but the hangovers are not worth the trouble.

What’s the answer? Unleashing hate on various groups of people has helped. Sure, there are the go’to’s, Trump, Millenials, politicans, assholes who are driving Baltimore into the ground.

But I need more – not more to hate, that’s no problem. I’m looking to get into different hobbies: mountain biking, building models, witchcraft. So maybe that’s the answer – something to justify the fact that I have more to life. I’ll give it a shot.

I still will hate. Plenty of targets there.

(Note: I built models as a child and fucking was horrible at it. More than a few were smashed into the walls before being completed. It worried my parents. Still does.)