Technically, I’m still 46. The big B-Day doesn’t arrive until Tuesday. But my mind is already racing with thoughts of “what I’ve learned so far” in approximately 47 years of life.
Know this: I don’t claim to be right about any of it. All these points are subject to debate. But it’s how I feel, what I think when I lay my head down on my pillow at night. Adulterers are some fucked up people, I’ll tell you that.
- This is not how I thought my life would turn out. When you’re young in your twenties, or even your early thirties, you have a certain image of life in your forties. You think you’ll be “settled,” that you will have figured things out. Most of all, you think you will be happy. But happiness, true happiness at any stage of life is an illusion, and it doesn’t get easier with age.
- People are generally fucked up. After nearly a half century of living, I’ve realized that everyone, not just me, is a crazy-ass in their own rite. Yes, there are plenty of good people out there (I think I’m an overall good guy), but many of them will stab you in the back if you let your guard down. (I never should have trusted a particular woman who assured me our “secret was safe.”)
- Religion is bullshit. I don’t say this lightly, and I mean no offense. But once you’ve lived long enough to see the true nature of man, you understand why religion was invented. We can’t handle the fact that sin is in our nature. We need something to make us feel good about ourselves. Bow your heads and repeat after me: “I am a good person. My life is worth something. I am not going to die and turn to dirt in a few years. Amen.”
- Careers are not that important. Pardon my ego, but where I work, I am a considered a stud. I am the go-to guy in every sense of the word. Just last Friday, the top bosses at my company took me to lunch to thank me for my studliness. No shit. But in the course of becoming the best damn thing that ever happened to TV news, I’ve sacrificed family and friendships. Career, especially the fast-paced TV industry, has taken my soul piece by piece.
- We delude ourselves. We do it from the time we are born. We believe something great is coming in our lives. Next year, or the year after that. We don’t know what is it, but it’s coming. But eventually, reality slaps you in the face. This is it. This is your life. No more illusions of grandeur. If you’re stuck in a dead end office job, it’s because you were destined to be to a dead end office worker. And if you’re stuck in a marriage as plain as vanilla ice cream, there are no nuts or cherries in your future.
- We medicate ourselves. Every member of my my family, except for me, is on some form of medication. And I’m not talking about high-blood pressure pills. I’m referring to drugs that “balance” your mind. Doctors dispense them like candy, and people suck them down like hungry children. Me? I’d rather smoke a big fat doobie for my pain than become a slave to Pharma. (I’m encouraged by the growing number of people who are abandoning their meds and embracing their uniqueness.)
- I enjoy being a tortured soul. Somehow, it gives my life purpose, meaning. I would rather question everything around me than “fall alseep” like so many of the people I know. The pain I feel gives me passion, whether I’m cooking a romantic meal for my wife (which I do quite often these days) or pressing my lips against her belly. Normal doesn’t fit me well.
See you next year.
If I’m not dead.
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