She said a good day ain’t got no rain. She said a bad day is when I lie in bed. And I think of things that might have been–Paul Simon
I used to have this odd feeling-whenever I was nearly hit by a semi on the freeway or almost choked to death on a chicken bone or nearly fell into the Grand Canyon-that I could see into that other life that had just ended.
I felt that I was somehow jumping from life to life at each death moment, and I often wished that these other slackers had done a slightly better job of living my life than I had.
There are a handful of moments that I tend to think of as turning points which might have set me either on the right path or the really wrong path-but I have always been a Middle Path kind of guy.
When I was right out of High School I played with the idea of being a Travel Agent, an Aircraft Mechanic, or joining The Marines. Looking back now I can’t even imaging having become a Marine and my skills at aircraft mechanics in High School were not all that good either.
I didn’t become a Travel Agent because the school’s placement program garanteed me a job, but not one where I lived. Odd to think about now as well, after all has staying in the same general spot all these years really made that much of a difference?
I used to think about suicide a lot. I had a gun once and according to some study or another, that’s the manly way to kill yourself. But I was never man enough to go through with it. I always liked the idea of pills or maybe jumping off a bridge. I even bought a copy of Finial Exit once upon a time, though I have yet to take the turning.
I like to blame my parents, as many people do these days. They didn’t shove a golf club or a tennis racket into my hands when I was two years old and decide my future for me. So I have drifted and stumbled along on my own. Of course, after a while you can’t really blame anyone but yourself for where you are or what did or didn’t do with your life-but where’s the fun in that?
I am, for the most part, content with my life. Oh I have the occasional flares up where I wish I were Bill Gates or an Arab Oil Billionaire, but really, I have always felt that was cheating somehow.
I still think of things that might yet be, and not things that might have been. I have always liked the Butcher in Fiddler on The Roof-What’s done, is done he said with a motion of cutting off his hand. I have always liked the idea of the past being past.
