by Shelt Garner
@sheltgarner
I really love New York City and, if I hadn’t blown out an emotional knee after South Korea, I probably would have saved up the money to move there when I came home the last time. But my mind was so scrambled at that moment in time that that just wasn’t practical.
So, here I am, at 50, longing to have enough money just to visit the Big Apple. The thing that really grates on my nerves is the cold, hard, fact that even if I blow up with my DJ money (sell a novel) that I can never be young in the big city. I’ll just be an old man whose peers are all middle aged empty nesters and here I am, an old bachelor.
But I’m not dead yet, as they say.
And, yet, it’s times like these that my age really hits home. I have all these dreams and aspirations for what I’ll do if I ever magically “make it big” but I have to accept that I just won’t get what I want. The entire context of any success I might have at this point will be totally different than what I want.
Not only will I have to explain why I haven’t done anything with my life for about 20 years, if I become as successful as I believe I should be, everything will be frame in the context of, “How does it feel to be a success later in life?”
But my age is really at the forefront of my mind these days. The clock is ticking and I really need to be mindful about how limited my time on earth is. Wish me luck.
