I’ve still got so long to go

This post may have mildly depressing undertones, so I’ll start with some humour:

Dave Hughes (stand-up comedian, bantering with the crowd): “How are you going mate – you’re with your girlfriend? How long have you guys been going out? Five years – wow. How long you got to go?”

Sometimes I ask that of myself. How long to go? It’s a longer view internal monologue, the thumbnail sketch of which is ‘what am i doing with my life?’. Despite my righteous atheism, I do envy the aspect of religion that gives the indoctrinated a sense of purpose in life; that when they roll up the curtain and join the choir of the invisible, they’ll be more than just food for worms.

For the rational amongst us, we answer these internal rumblings with projects. Projects fuel a sense of purpose about life, they create a path for improvement, and a goal to be scored, achieved, reached.

You’ve got a project. Right now, reading this, it’s moved to the forefront of your mind. It’s the next overseas pilgrimage, the new diet/fitness regime, you’re buying property/a car, you’re getting engaged/married, you just need to get laid, you’re building something, you’ve got a pretty big pile of laundry to get through.

My project last year was to participate in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Tick. Pretty good wicket, that (thanks to the amazing Keith, Em, and Danne). Travel seems to be a recurring pet project. In 2006 two separate projects had me living in New York and Doha for months at a time. Maybe it’s a portal, or an escape hatch; a response to being less happy with my life in Sydney than previously. I dream about living in Italy, but my language skills extend about as far as being able to order a strong macchiato 🙂

For much of my adult existence, life has been great, and work has been a financing tool. Now I’ve found a career, work is great, but life is lacking any vigour or purpose. Or projects.

This year I’d like to learn to play guitar, grow a vege patch, join a gym (and attend more than once), start a new relationship, do some theatre. If ticked more than one of those boxes by December I’d give myself a pass mark.

And I should write. Someone who knows these things once said I write beautifully. It might take time for that to be true again, but I’ve made a start. Once a week, this space. Your time starts now.

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