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A week from today, I'll be turning 36. This fact has depressed me immensely for the last few days. I feel I have nothing to show for 36 years. Which I know isn't true, but....I really thought I'd have a kid or two by now.
Instead, I sacrificed all that for my career, hopping from job to job, trying to beef up my resume, never staying in any place long enough to form real relationships. So yeah, I've amassed some good stories, adventures. But even that feels shallow now.
I feel like nothing I did was ever that hard, that special, that cool. Nobody wants to hear about them.
I've been reading Pete Fromm's "new" book and...that guy had it all. Amazing adventures, love, family, kids....
I've been reading Pete Fromm's "new" book and...that guy had it all. Amazing adventures, love, family, kids....
He had a partner in crime throughout it all, and I can't help but feel like I should have had that, wanted that, missed out on it. What a romantic life. Now I'm too old to be able to do anything too hard; I hurt my knee just walking my dog through the park yesterday.
Last year I did a 3-day trip through the Bob Marshall that was EPIC HARD. I was worried I wouldn't be able to keep up with the 20y/o techs, but I did. I did it. I was damn proud of that.
But now I like...don't want to do stuff like that. I want to sleep in a bed, have a shower.
But now I like...don't want to do stuff like that. I want to sleep in a bed, have a shower.
Anyway.
This thread that no one will read brought to you by Wednesday blues, COVID quarantine, and sore joints.
This thread that no one will read brought to you by Wednesday blues, COVID quarantine, and sore joints.
