Just started officially planning the execution of something I've wanted to do for who knows how long. A cross country roadtrip through the USA. Obviously still a ton to do, sort out, figure out etc., but it's a start and I'm not in that much of a rush.
Been thinking a lot lately of unrealized dreams, how short life really is and how suddenly it all can end. There should be more to it than grinding away every day, even if it's a job / life you happen to like; personally I want to live, not just exist.
You're so scandalous.
Tell me about unrealized dreams and how suddenly life can end. That's awesome you're going to do this.
Me, I just want to eventually more of get my writing out there, and now dabble in graphic design with Affinity Publisher. The need to create is still strong, but the desire is strike while it's hot, which is annoying as heck to me, but...
Next month it'll be a year that I almost died, and I did some things I wanted to do, but not everything. So I can relate to your post in a big way.
I hope everyone is having a nice Friday.
Oddly enough, and this only recently came back to me, I quite vividly remember a late morning, a sunny late summer morning, over the summer holidays when I was in secondary school, a year before I took the first set of state exams which occur mid way through the school cycle - so, I was fourteen.
I was lying on a rug in the back garden, reading - and completely immersed in - a history book on twentieth century history - (but that summer, I also recall reading a lot of Jules Verne, such as Around the World in Eighty Days, which I loved, as well as some of the works of Alexandre Dumas, though I loathed the character of Edmond Dantés every bit as much as I later loathed Frodo when I first met him in TLOTR, as a postgrad; and I read my way through my mother's library of feminist classics - Simone de Beauvoir, et all - that summer as well, though Plato and George Orwell were read during the first term of the following school year).
Anyway, that morning, on the rug, having finished and put down the history book, I remember thinking - with an extraordinary and bizarrely focussed clarity - that there were a number of things I wanted to do in the course of my life.
I wanted to write a history book - at least one, and the subject matter for that history book - which was published a quarter of a century later - came into my mind that particular morning. In addition, I wanted to travel, widely, extensively, see places and explore their history and cultures, to travel and work in interesting countries while doing interesting jobs.
And I wanted to work at something that engaged and enthused me, something that provided intellectual stimulation, some autonomy, a decent income, (so that I was financially independent) and which included studying, researching and perhaps teaching and writing about history and politics.
And now, decades later, I realise that - to some extent or other - I have actually done all of these things.
So, reach for your dreams, and try to find some way of fulfilling them.
My dad went to creative writing classes for three years after he retired - it was something he had always wanted to do - and hugely enjoyed it as this was a facet of his character that he felt unable to indulge until then.
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