That’s what I have to say first, for being gone so long. I’m sorry. Since I last wrote on this blog, I’ve starred as Pseudolus in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and failed to get even the part of Repo Man 1 in The Full Monty. I’ve also had two novels published–Edge of Desinty, and Death’s Disciples–both of which are fantastic, despite what the critics say. And my next novel proposal was rejected.
So, all of these are reason for not writing, yes? Except that the other reason is a kind of general, free-floating malaise known as middle age. Middle age is when everyone thinks you have the answers, but you know nothing.
What no one wants to admit is that middle age is adolescence all over again. It’s the same awkward, I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-I’m-doing-but-TA-DA phase of existence. It’s the same everybody-expects-so-much-of-me-but-I-just-want-to-sleep experience. Adolescence has acne and middle age has baldness. Adolescence has “Will anyone pay me to do anything, ever?” and middle age has “Will anyone pay me to do anything, ever again?”
Adolescence is eternal. Certainty is transitory.
But I am choosing to celebrate my second adolescence. After all, adolescence is all about finding out who I am and who I am becoming. I need that. I need to become something more than I am. I’m constantly trying to be more. Transformation: That’s adolescence.
And, I would argue, that’s our truest state. If adolescence is that awkward striving to become something more, then every other state is that awkward decision to cling to something less.
Awkward as it may be, it’s better to transform than to decompose.
I’d rather be the eternal adolescent.January 23rd, 2011
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