Snippitts of Illusions

This is it.

So this is it?

This is what all those dreams and aspirations have led me to. Fat, morose, jaded. Working a job I can only tolerate, making not quite enough money to get by and living with a woman I hate as much as I love.

This is it.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. But I'm not sure I ever really knew what I wanted out of life. It's like that equation X then ? = profit. I started out with a big X. I was going to be a composer. I lost my way. I've talked about it before. It's lame. It's my own fault. The thing is, even if I hadn't lost my passion and my drive and my direction, there's still that "?". What the hell was it supposed to be?

I honestly don't know.

Was it success? Maybe? Though I think that would be "profit". I don't know what it was.

I'd never imagined myself married. Not really. Not like my peers. Not like all of the people around me that I interact daily with. I don't grok it like I should. I understand the idea of committing yourself to somebody, but other than crushes, infatuation and some lust, the women I've been in relationships with have been sort of accidental on my part. And even when I have strong feelings for them, there's never a desire for marriage.

Kids? Yes and no. I don't want kids really. But part of me is sad that it's never likely to happen now. I suppose it's the faint desire to see my genes pass on to another generation. I'm not likely to be remembered once I'm gone. So having some kids, and grandkids to tell stories about me after the fact would be one way to be remembered.

It's not to be. She can't have children. And honestly, we're not mentally prepared for them, for different reasons. She's able to fawn over the nieces and nephews, which is quickly making her their favorite aunt. So it works out.

So I don't know. I don't know what I expected. Once I walked away from music, really that was it. Even dabbling in theater for a while was just hanging out to that which I was no longer able to give my all to.

I guess I have the podcasting.
If only I were better at it.

Labels: Life

posted by F.G. Shaw @ 9:02 PM