I may be going through something of a mid-life crisis.
You hear a lot about this (or I did, growing up): men who cross the forty or forty-five year old mark, find that they want totally different lives, and do completely irrational things as a result.
Let me be clear: I have NO desire whatsoever to leave my wife for some twenty year old; I'm not in the market for a fast, expensive, red sportscar; and the idea of a toupee or hair job of any kind makes me want to throw up. No, most of my problem right now, the source of my discontent, is professional. (There was a time, not so long ago, when I enjoyed my work. For a time, I enjoyed work more than I enjoyed my home life. Since then, however, my home life has improved dramatically and my work life has declined.)
I spent a good part of Spring Break (I'm in the education biz, remember) lounging about the house, spending time with my wife, and working on my novel/screenplay (more on that later). I've decided that I will someday make a truly excellent retired person, but in the meantime there are bills to pay, college tuitions to save for, and home improvement to be done.
My new fantasy daydream is to sell a novel/screenplay or two, build up enough to comfortably get by, and quit my job. (A close second to that is another daydream in which I merely walk in to work and quit my job with no plan B.) Of course, it's all labeled "fantasy" for a reason: Having no plan B, I wouldn't be able to support the household; there is no real "go-to" profession for people in my line of work, save returning to classroom teaching; and given the economy of late, returning to the classroom would put be back at the bottom of the seniority ladder, only to be kicked from that a year later (at best). At a time where many people my age are out of work--so many, in fact, that my eighteen year old son is having trouble finding a job--it's not right of me to complain. I have a job, and that's a lot more than many can say.
Nonetheless, I find myself wanting something more . . . fulfilling, professionally. And I keep coming back to the conclusion that--for now, at least--there's little to be done about it.
I am at the early part of "mid-life"; my situation is hardly a crisis--there are many things, most of them at home, that I enjoy immensely and consistently--and I can in no way label it as "problematic." If nothing else, I suppose, I am now like so many other people who aren't very happy in their jobs.
What do they do, I wonder?
Observations, rants, and plausible
deniability from a person who refuses
to be a prisoner of his own world.
deniability from a person who refuses
to be a prisoner of his own world.
The Village
I AM WRITING!
My Screenplay -- Draft Three
I'm currently reading:
On my Kindle 2
I'm listening to:
iTunes Radio
I'm driving:
The Honda FCX Clarity
