since i turned 40, almost three years ago, i have been thinking about direction-or lack of it-or unclear and undefined goals. i have none really. sure, i have a few RRSP's, but not much. not enough to make any sort of difference. i have some savings. not much, certainly not enough. i have an apertment i almost own-but still owe enough on that it pains me and the fact that i should have been more forceful with my money and payed as much as i could, when i could on it, instead i still owe on it when i could have onwed it outright a year or more ago. so be it. but the future has always been something i have looked towards and thought about without any real thoughts of now. what i'm doing now. so fucking hippy but, it's true. lately i have been thinking more about what i want to do vs. what i have to do. i know it's wrong on one hand not to have a clearer idea of my future but, what about now. my father once told me that i had to make hay while the sun was shining-he later-years later-told me he felt badly for that. that he, himself, wished he had taken more time for himself and the family and traveled more, had more time off instead of working all the time. that he felt badly for instilling that work ethic in me. a good work ethic is a great thing to have, and i have it, but i think i have maybe just a little too much sometimes. corie called me a hummingbird once, that i need to be busy to be happy. or at least content. maybe that's true.
i do know that i need certain things to be 'happy'-whatevr that really is. i need to be doing something. yup, that's the truth. i need to have movement of some sort. i can not sit on a beach and watch the world go by-i have tried but it's not my deal- i like driving for that reason. i need to help out. i need to give more than i take-not because i want some sort of recognition that i did so, just because.
ok..so that's not what i had started out to tell you-but i did. so sue me.
when i was born my father was 25 years old, i think if i've do my math correctly. as was my mom. but for this exercise i'm using my dad as the ruler. yardstick. whatever. when my father was 42, i was then 17-give or take. this baffles me. i could never imagine myself with a 17 year old kid. freaks me out. makes absolutely no sense. which brings me to my point, finally...what the hell happened to me? to many people i am surrounded by? what happened to us? or is this just another example of our generation being so much different from our parents. our parents, most of them, had one career, one house, one spouse-sometimes that didn't always work out...my father, when i was 17, had a house, a wife, a career, two cars, RRSP's that amounted to something, a retirement plan, etc. all the eggs in the basket, my eggs are scattered all over hell's half acre. at best.
i dress like a 15 year old. collect toys. still think of new tattoos to get. drive around looking for the perfect burrito-and will continue to do so, haven't and will probably never find 'the one', and just kinda live life like there may very well be no tomorrow-but without all the drugs and alcohol. i live in a box, the biggest box i will probably ever own.
my father's/my parent's life doesn't mirror mine even in the slightest of ways. should it? do i need to grow-up? or is this the way it is suppose to be? i do know that since tom's death i have been living life a little differently, at least to me-maybe just in my head. i have a greater understanding of what i need. and that it could all come crumbling down tomorrow and the fact that i bought that white kaws chum last week means i had it at least once before i died. sure, it's a material good but one i wanted. i sat in santa cruz wondering, last year, if i should pull the trigger on a bigger toy deal and ultimately i did it. why? because i wanted it but also because at the time mishi's mom was dying, santa cruz made me think of tom and how fucking short the time really is. now, i'm not talking about my imminent death or anything of the sort but i am going about certain things differently now in regards to work and play.
i want to do some letterpress work. i want to cut grass. i want to make bags with the garbs. i want certain material goods. i want to eat dinners with my pals. i don't want to work. i will work. and i'll work hard. but i'm only working hard to do the rest.
do i care about the future. sure, and it scares me. i will have to work until i drop. will be holed-up in a small place near a main roadway and a corner store. but that's ok. it'll also be close to a place i can get a great burrito.
i've been lucky. yup, i said it out loud-kind of. a mother and fatherwho, after everything-drugs, booze, getting kicke out of school over and over, etc-still love me. friends who are second to none and more coming on board all the time. it could be worse. don't get me wrong though-life is shit, i'm just trying to wade through it as best i can.
so what about the differences between me and floyd? i guess that's the way it is. in the end i can't change too much now. my uncle is retiring in june and at lunch with him the other day he and floyd talked about retirement and how it should be and how it really is. i'm not sure i'd be very good at it. i think i the end i'll be a handyman of some sort, cutting grass, fixing sinks and stoves and getting paid in casserols and six packs of stella.
could be worse.
g. xo
