Tomorrow morning I turn 40. I'm not super freaked out about it, but it definitely makes me think about what I have--and more importantly--have not accomplished. For instance, when Mozart was my age, he'd already been dead for five years. When Kurt Cobain was my age, he'd been dead for thirteen. I suppose it's fortunate then that I'm a would-be writer, rather than a would-be musician. Writers get cut more a bit more slack. Henry Miller didn't publish his first novel until he was 44, Raymond Chandler 51. I could still totally beat those guys. Maybe. Like if I was writing right now instead of watching "Tao of Steve" on cable. Damn. Wait, wasn't Laura Ingles Wilder like super old when she started writing?
ETA: Ha... the movie just quoted Lao Tzu's "The sage, because he does nothing, never ruins anything" to justify a lifetime of slacking. Excellent!