Thursday, 21 September 2017

Too little money and too little patience

I have a quandary.  I work long hours in a high(ish) pressured job (but aren't they all?) yet earn a relatively paltry amount of money (I know, first-world problems and all that).  I am also currently on leave from work so I have time to peruse Boardgamegeeks and Amazon as well as numerous retail websites which offer lovely deals on fantastic table top games.  This has left me wondering where to go next in my quest to further indulge my geekiness: do I go for Star Trek Attack Wing or build my paltry collection of X-Wing and Armada miniatures?  Do I dip my toe into a Kickstarter for an amazing looking game with lovely, well-cast miniatures?  Or do I save money and use it all for something more adult, such as a car or a home of my own?

As I grow older and slightly more disappointed with life I am often left with the familiar dilemma of many forty-somethings: who am I and where am I going?  Do I 'grow up' and dump those interests which have given me so much respite from the last few years' of turbulence, or do I continue to forge an identity based on a genuine and growing interest in the worlds of gaming, fantasy and SF?

These are such first-world problems that I feel ashamed to raise them, privately or publicly.  But with time on my hands I have the advantage of seeking out some truths, or at least some fresh perspectives on what I want to do with my remaining years on this planet and whether I choose to enjoy this time or look to pursue my previous interest in trying to develop an average salary career in an organisation which will chew me up and spit me out without a flicker of genuine concern.

Of course, this all comes down to what I do - prevarication and introspection may offer an occasionally fun diversion but the risk is disappearing up my own backside and never living the life I am actually trying to map out.  There's some irony there, possibly.  Certainly, I think it's all meant to mean something but I suspect it's just waffle from my pampered ego.  It's also been an excuse to actually write something, which is an activity I've ignored for far too long, especially considering my interest in writing more.

Lesson learned: procrastinate less and do more!  Maybe I should carve out a career as someone who creates vapid quotations for furniture and cushions.  Or is that my inner demon working its cynical magic, as it likes to?

The Monkey

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