8 Weeks Till Xmas

Eight weeks to Xmas. What? Already? The middle part of the year just kind of gets away from you.

And the world slips by.

I wanted to be a bloody great success by now. But, I guess, that is the unquenchable wants, one half of the economic equation, of human nature. A bloody great success is a sliding scale, depending where you are along your personal journey.

Depends, what scale you are using? The accountant scale, or the superstar scale. I guess, on the accountant scale, I am a bloody great success. Although, to me, it just seems like a bore, like some how I got side tracked and here I am. Sometimes, I feel like I joined the wrong dots, professionally, that is, because at eighteen I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do.

I want to do architecture, I said in year 12 - all my art through out my whole school life was of buildings, normally terrace houses, or renovations to existing buildings. You know, herritage facades...

You're a business student, said the careers teacher with a snigger. You've always have been, you must take this path...

But, I think, buildings are the only thing I'm passionate about... blah, blah, blah.

You've never done physics, you wouldn't get in. She looked at me if I was mad. Now, here's your business course choices.

How much did you say they earned?

Blah, blah, she enthused.

Oh, okay then.

I had to live before I even knew what dots to go for. I still didn't take writing seriously until years after that. Writing was something I'd always done. I wrote my first story in grade three, my mate Stuart Williams, illustrated. It was so good, it was read to the grade 2's. We wrote a sequal. Writing was something I'd always just done - I kept a journal, wrote poems, made up stories, in year twelve I had so many characters going around in my head, I feared schizophrenia.

But, at eighteen, I did as I was told. That kept me busy for a while.

Success is always void, as soon as you get there, or at least, as soon as I get there, because there has always been something else. Architecture and then writing. Achievements are null and void by the dream of something greater.

It wasn't until my twenty eigth birthday, I remember it well. I could have been a writer all along. But that's just kids stuff. You mean I could have?

Then I spent five years studying that.

Now, I just want to see something of mine in print and have people tell me they enjoyed it. (Other than people I already know, that is) That's all.

I guess the moral to this story, well, for me anyway, is that if I want to go up a scale in success, I need to work twice as hard and not kick back and smoked pot and relax - and not write this blog.

Sad, but true.