Call it a turning point. I have some serious dreams and ambitions, and if I want to see them come out of the realm of pleasant fantasy and actually put forth roots in reality, at some point I have to stop imagining that I am working/what it will be like to work/that I might start working on them someday, and actually, well, get started. And 25 seems like a good year for that. But it's a scary thing. It's almost impossible for me to avoid falling into the trap of comparisons when it comes to creating a meaningful life for myself. How can I catch up to those friends of mine (or, hell, annoying middle school acquaintances) who are already published poets, or make $200K a year, or are famous performers with bands I'd die to get on stage with, or are getting written up in the New Yorker, or started their own wildly successful company...
|"What other instruments are there, pray tell? Scratchy violins?|
Screechy piccolos? Nauseating trumpets? Etcetera? Etcetera?"
(Hi, I made you some 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T gifs. You're welcome.)