2017

Years ago, I used to look ahead to the year 2017 because the numbers match my birthday and I'd calculate how old I would be and think there was no way I'd ever reach that age. And yet here we are.

In the normative view, what a waste and mess I've made of my life. I've done nothing with my life. What was there ever to make of my life? From a young age, suicide resonated. I've never considered living life a goal, much less a long life.

At every point in my life, any decision I made about my life precluded long-term considerations. Even simple things like airline mileage programs I saw no need or purpose. I just didn't ever expect to live that much longer into my future.

Owning property was never something I could even conceptualize. Starting a family? Settling down? Steady job? Not things that were ever serious considerations. That attitude pervaded my entire existence. That's just how I always lived it.

Obviously I don't subscribe to the normative view of how to live a life or I'd have lots of regrets and would be trying to "turn my life around". I don't disagree that it's been a waste and a mess, but . . . it was supposed to be. For me, the waste and mess of my life is a description, not a judgment.

And for the past six years I've really been doing pretty much absolutely nothing. Nothing of any benefit to anyone. Why am I still here? On the most fundamental level, I think it's because I can't truly grasp my own mortality, despite death constantly being on my mind and in my meditation and studies.

Intellectually I embrace the idea of death as a part of the cycle of life. Viscerally, I examine my physical self, my functioning, my conceptualization (mind) and I can't deny it with death. It's a fundamental flaw, the understanding of which may be my main pursuit of my life.

Something's going to have to happen at some point. "You can't run away from what waits for you" (Sixx A.M.). If my birth date suggests the year, then my birth year suggests a date as a goal. Not that I'm very good with goals.