The big 30 is coming in less than a year and it's haunting me. The whole notion of mortality has been like a bullet popping in and out of my skull.
So much time left and all I can do is imagine myself on my death bed, prepping for those first steps into the hereafter. It's depressing.
I finished my first book; "The Ghost Who Rocks" a couple of weeks ago. I asked my proffessor for advise on getting it published but he hasn't gotten back to me.
Right now I'm not even worried about whether or not it's successful. Of course I'd like it to be, but I doubt it. My real hope is that it will open doors for me writing not only more books, but writing other kinds of stories in TV, Movies, or Comic Books. That would be sweet.
But part of my Mid-Life crisis is the idea that maybe I'll never be what I want to be. Maybe I don't have the talent. Perhaps I'll end up a history teacher like my folks like everybody keeps telling me I will.
Love my parents, love history, and nothing against the teachers (who aren't pretentious, uptight drones) but it's not what I want to be. I enjoy creating stories, hate writing them down, but love coming up with them.
I just can't help but wonder if I am doomed to follow in footsteps that I don't want to and it's driving me insane.
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