I find myself wondering if I am having a mid-life crisis. I’m not entirely certain what a mid-life crisis really entails, other than the sorts of symptoms you hear on sitcoms.
But let’s take a look at the last year, shall we?
I quit a job that, while not very lucrative financially, was comfortable and secure and sometimes enjoyable.
I sold my house (at a huge profit, at least) and left everything and everyone behind to move to San Jose, California.
I bought a house in California for more than half a million dollars. I have poked around for nearly a year without a full-time job and even though I am looking, it’s somewhat half-hearted.
Yesterday I bought an electric scooter. I know that I will enjoy it, like I enjoyed having a moped years ago — but my analytical mind is railing against it because I will never save enough money in gas to recoup the cost.
I don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life; and if “mid-life” crisis is an accurate moniker, then I have about another 40 years left to muddle through.
Do I want to be a creative director? Or do I want to do something else? What am I qualified to do, anyway? Damn these whizkids of today, they may know the hierarchy of CSS and futz around with AJAX, and get their ASPs in a row, but do they know anything about type, about leading, about how to hang a quote outside the margin nicely?
This from a guy who never used a waxer and never cut any rubylith. When did I become the old fogey?
Maybe I need to take some classes or win the lottery. Or both.
Meanwhile, my scooter comes today, so now I have to deal with the DMV yet again. Even fun means bureaucracy.
You should get through your “crisis” about four months after your 40th birthday. Just don’t grow one of those pony tails. Oh, and the purchase of a scooter is not a symptom of a mid life crisis. However, the purchase of a Honda Gold Wing, a car on two wheels, is.