I guess there is a trend here. I grew up wanting to know and do everything there was with space. Obviously I don't remember it, but at 3 months old my parents sat me in front of the TV to watch the moon landing, and it has always intrigued me. My "goal" as a kid was to live to at least 131 (so I'd see the year 2100) and to have at least visited, if not be living on, Mars. In the 47 years since then obviously we haven't done a goddamn thing to help me achieve those goals. And other than getting a bachelor's in aeronautical engineering, I didn't do a fucking thing either. Practically since graduation I've worked jobs that were completely unrelated, and for the last 18 I've sat in almost the same fucking chair in the same fucking office with almost the exact same fucking morons (seriously, I've told the same people at least a dozen times how to attach a file to an email, for instance) doing a job that I'm vastly overqualified for, for far less money than I should be making. And then I go home, fuck around, watch TV or game or read a book, go to bed too late, and wake up tired the next day to do it all over again. I've even lost interest in dating much, because even women my age are motherfucking crazy it seems. And then I sit there and realize that only I can change this, it isn't going to magically fall in my lap, and I get disgusted with myself for even beginning to pity myself. But it just seems to creep up on me, year after year, and I wonder where all the time has gone. There is always some reason why I didn't get around to it, right?
