Melancholy Man

This year I turn 60.  6-0, sixty, LX, however you want to put it. It’s nuts.

I waste a lot of time. Games, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. Watching continual ESPN SportsCenter, watching lousy football (Browns and the University of Michigan), and it’s going all too fast.

I keep listening to Crosby, Stills, and Nash’s song, “Wasted On The Way”, and it makes me melancholy. Melancholy that I’ve wasted too much time. Too many dreams and not enough pursuit of them. Too many ideas and not enough elbow grease to make them happen. At times melancholy is good. Because it makes you look at reality.

I am so much more than half way home (I don’t expect to live until 120 years old). I am aware of my mortality. But I think melancholy can make you better, if you just visit it and don’t build a house there. It’s a wake up, a “hey, this game ain’t over yet”. As Bob Dylan sang, “It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there”.

So I’m excited now. The weight “is what it is”. It may go down, it may go up. It may stay the same. I could pull a Chris Christy or Rex Ryan and get “THE” operation, but they tell me I’m not big enough. My options then are to lose weight or put on another 50 pounds. I opt for the latter, but Bonnie won’t let me.

I’m not focused on it anymore.

No matter what, God is good. I’m excited. I want to use my time better. I deactivated my Facebook account, and may also get rid of Instagram and Twitter. Baby steps, children, baby steps. I need to focus on the good things in life, and there are many. I need to focus more on the Word of God. I need to stop looking at others and their successes and begin to understand that if I haven’t reached what others have done (financially, physically, emotionally) that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve failed. It means I’m not them.

I’ve eliminated a lot of stress from my life by eliminating a lot of stressful people from my life. I have to take care of me. And if other people have their feelings hurt, well, sorry. Sorry, your feelings are hurt but not sorry of my decisions. Your hurt feelings don’t get to me anymore. I’m moving on.

So it’s 9 months until 60.  Bring it on, because, honestly, I never thought I’d live this long.

 

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