by Shelt Garner
@sheltgarner
The idea of losing yet another tooth is really eating away at me. It’s a sign of my mortality. I suppose if the Singularity arrives in the next few years, there’s a chance anti-ageing technology may save me…maybe?
But I have to accept that I’m mortal. That I’m going to one day walk off the mortal coil. At the moment, barring some sort of accident, I give myself at best 20 years. At best.
My dad lived to be really, really old, but the last few years (decades?) where just no fun. I want to be young again. I want to sell a breakout first novel, move to NYC and LA and run around town chasing hot women.
But, alas, even if I stick the landing with this novel, I’m going to be so old that….ugh. I’m just going to have to accept that either I’m going to get VERY LUCKY and get an older girlfriend / wife or maybe fall into some sort of romantic situation with an android.
That, at the moment, seems to be my fate. (Hence the subject matter of the novel I’m working on.)
I just can’t believe I spent so much time grieving over the demise of ROKon Magazine. I think a lot of it came from realizing the reason it failed was me. It’s flaws were an expression of my own flaws.
And also, I wanted to move to NYC.
But, for various reasons, I just refused to do whatever was necessary to make that a reality. So, here I am, old(er) and still doing not a lot with my life. The only thing I have that gives me any hope is my novel. I’m working really hard on it and I really need to just wrap it up.
I just hate, hate, hate how old I am.
