I’ve been around 30 years - every single one of them safe and well-fed. Reflecting on people’s lifestyles and longevity over humankind’s tenure on earth, I conclude that I’ve already lived longer and happier than anyone should ever expect. I find this calming. It grants a sort of existential courage and peace of mind.
I just finished my last day at the office. As it happens, I’m last out today. I’ll do a final walk-through, turn off the lights, and lock the door. When I walk away I’m going to imagine a camera shot lingering for a few minutes on the empty space before an executive producer credit pops up on the screen. You know, the same credit that appears at the end of every sit-com episode, but you never think twice about it until the series finale. Then it’s suddenly swelling with meaning and emotion because it means the end of something you’ve gotten used to (even if it was just mediocre like Two-and-a-Half Men).
I might pause and wonder who gets the executive producer credit for my last ten years. Then I’ll tell myself to quit being such a drama queen and go home and have a beer with my wife.
I didn’t have a clear idea what to do with this blog before. Now, I’m getting ready to move home from overseas and change careers at 30 years old. That seems worth writing about.
Right now I’m scrambling to tie up loose ends before we fly away from London forever. Like everything else I do, there’s paperwork. I’m used to filling in forms, but this is a bit much even for me.
I keep dwelling on things I enjoyed about London and things I meant to see but missed. Life’s 10,000 daily annoyances fade to the background. I sigh a lot and gaze out of windows.
I also browse course catalogs for school, the second most exciting aspect of moving home. I’m about to go back full-time and finish a degree. What degree? It depends if I like Intro to Programming and Pre-Calc. Probably Sociology.
Next: 16-hour journey with two kids and a cat (8 suitcases!).