Friday, August 04, 2006

End of Summer Depression--Vol. 1: Have I Passed My Best?

My very first-ever cute

At the end of every summer, I start to get a little depressed. It's not just the impending school year (which I just realized I will have hanging over me every summer until I retire...sigh), and it's not the convenience of turning one year older at the end of every summer (only 6 shopping days left!), it's so much more. I think it's hereditary (more on this at some future date).

Anyway, I get depressed about all of the things I was going to do with my freetime that don't happen because of many things, but usually because of television and sleep. On my death bed, I'll be well rested and able to quote from a ridiculously large score of shows, but I don't think that will make me too happy.

Amongst other things, I didn't lose the weight I planned on losing, I didn't learn a single word of spanish, I didn't master either the mandolin or the dulcimer, and I've recorded exactly 0 songs. I wrote one half of a play, but I didn't think it was very good.

And then I have so many reminders thrown in my face. Liriano will probably win the Cy Young and Rookie of the Year, and he's fucking younger than me. Marx had written the Communist Manifesto and had it translated into seven languages by this time in his life. And I ain't done shit.

But at one point, I was in a band with dreams of global dominance, I was leading a movement we all thought was going to end the war, I was a regular feature performer in seevral theaters, and if you notice in the picture below, I had a ring on a certain finger that holds special signifigance in Western culture.

Has my life already peaked, with me not even quite 24 years old yet? Am I destined to forever look back and think that those were the days? Am I already the overweight middle-manager who hates what his life has become? Or am I rediculous for thinking these things at this point in my life? Sigh...I hate youth/young adulthood/quarter-life crises.


Howzi said...

Woz... I know no one has told you yet, but it's a midlife crisis. You're not living past 48. Sorry to be the first one to break this to you.

This coming from the balding lawyer who is getting fatter and who bought a convertible and got engaged to a hot blonde. My guess is that we'll live together again in hell in about 20-25 years.

Oh, and as for the purple people eaters... I've got a similar story. Sara was at some bar with me and some of her friends... I had to leave because I had to work the next day. Eventually, she felt compelled to leave because minor league hockey sensation Hugo Proulx kept grabbing her friend's ass. Now, you don't need a google search to tell you about the extent of Hugo's fame... he was the most popular Quad City Mallard in the franchise's existence, and his one year stint with the Orlando Jackals of some Roller Hockey league will certainly go unforgotten in the mind of any true sports fan.

See... screw the Twin Cities when you can have the Quad Cities (twice as good, by my calculation) where washed up minor league hockey players can tell you that they can't believe you're engaged to your fiance because we look like brother and sister. If that's not living the high life, I don't know what is.

Dawn of the Spine said...

Your Silly've already done so much!

christopher uggen said...

nice pics, woz. 24 is sooo old. when you see profs, you must be singing mr. young's "old man" -- 24 and there's so much more. if you've even heard of mr. young, that is...