The last couple of weeks have been a bit peculiar. I’ve found myself questioning pretty much everything an getting very maudlin about reaching *that* age. I keep thinking that I’ve achieved nothing and my current state of existence should be blah blah blah y’know….mid-life crisis time.
Anyway. The point it, I have done some fairly astonishing things. I’ve had jobs and experiences that people would kill for and I’ve pretty much thrown those experiences away in favour of the next thrill. My problem, I think, is that I don’t hunk things through. My life, essentially has been a long term bucket list and I find that I’m ticking all this stuff off and racking up the experiences, but . . .
For example: “I want to be a performer and put on shows” Yup, did that, tick. What’s next? A career in theatre? No, no…. I’ve done that now…how about . . . host a radio show! Cool, I’ll do that! And then what….um… dunno. A career in radio? Naaaaah, Been there done that. And the same goes for having reviews published, having poetry published, writing for theatre, training as a chef, being in a band and writing songs, signing to a major record label, managing a band and getting them signed to a major label, designing record sleeves, working with other bands , promoting new talent, having comics published, studying for a Fine Art degree, etc, etc.
But none of it has led anywhere because I’m always looking for the next thrill…
However, it occurs to me. With a bit of rejigging and a plan, I’m actually a fairly formidable writer. It had never occurred to me before but almost everything I’ve done has revolved around writing. Even my fine art work was largely text based.
The recent events regarding my creative output have convinced me that yeah, I can actually write when I think about it.
Time to think about it . . .
No. . .
Time to *do* it.