What I Want to Do With My Life

Retire by 40 or be dead by 40.

I guess that is a question that can be branched off with two answers. Both are pretty good turnouts I guess.

Traveling would probably be a good experience, but with virtual and augmented reality technology in the fold, you probably wouldn’t even have to travel that much any more. Saves money on that plane ticket. What about smellovision? I want to smell what Emeril Lagasse is cooking. Or what The Rock is cooking (come on Dwayne, I want to know).

Be healthy enough to train for a marathon. Run a Boston Marathon qualifying time (because I want to fail the right way) and then run the Boston Marathon. Should probably see a doctor before I hit my 30’s and everything goes downhill and that marathon plan becomes nothing. Lazy butt.

Continue the lone wolf activities because let’s face it, that’s never going to break its routine.

Now the dead part. I think 40 is a good number to go. By that point your body is starting to fail and reject you anyway (in my case it’s been happening since I was 16) and why live to make it worse? Gotta take 80 pills a day for condition xyz abc 123. If I retire by 40, I could probably live that way until 50. No more though. If I get some food condition or allergy, just cut the cord there. I’m not changing my diet. I like food too much to regulate my choices.

Plus I got some pretty rotten lemons in this game of life. Sure, there are probably people worse off, but we’re talking about me here and this writing piece is most certainly about me and not them.

Also, don’t give me this bullshit about “What about your spouse and kids? Your perspective might change then”. Look. I’m 24 years old. I got plenty of time to think about companionship and children. My current perception is that I have no plans to have children and don’t even think I’m lucky enough to find a person to spend the rest of my life with. I mean I only got until like, 35 to do it anyway. Don’t want to find someone when I’m 40 because well, that’s the magic number. For now, I’m content with being alone. Well, ‘content’ might be the wrong word. It’s bothersome, but not enough to do anything about it.

Is it time for bed yet?