Poor Poor Pitiful Me

 The Madness of Middle Age

The story of a self sympathising soul is always sad and pitiful isn’t it? Many a time we find ourselves in the same shoes - all the more reason to like such a tale. I find myself in such a situation now more so than ever. The list of sorrows that plagues me causes me as much anguish to list as it is to experience.
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 Troubles So High

But for the sake of elaborating on my woes, I’ll outline a few. The most important one being that of progressing age - what others call the beginnings of middle age. This is probably why the middle ages were also known as the Dark Ages. Hitting 35 might not seem like that big a deal to most people because that’s when you trade up and buy yourself a swanky new toy or trade in for a younger partner to rejoice and revive the Wonder Years. For me, in part I refuse to believe that I can be sated by mere toys and in part, I refuse to believe that I’m no longer a brat pack teenager whose only goal in life was/is to live it to the finish! I now find myself concerned about social reputation, commercial success, financial security, a comfy bed and someone to warm it with.. Not that I’ve never encountered these needs/wants before in my past years, but this is the moment in time when I’m actually ‘concerned’ about acquiring these assets. And as the irony of life goes, the more I worry, the more elusive they all appear. Which only serves to anguish me more seeing as to how these were a just a snap of the fingers away.. in my younger days.

 Same Same But Different

Funnily enough, what makes this curiouser and curiouser is the fact that I’ve so much more now, than I ever was in all my years on this planet. In all matters of evolution, I’ve grown in leaps and bounds but the impasse of middle age seems to me unsurmountable at best. Which might really be a blessing seeing as to how I’ve concocted a nightmare where it crushes the very verve and vitality out of my virile soul. Monetary success is the panacea of our times for every malady of the soul. Get rich and spend it all on fast cars and faster women. And if you haven’t got there yet, the drive to get there will distract you enough from the plaguing insecurities of an ageing mind. I have no fascination for the merry go round of monetary pursuits and am a most lacking in worldly ambition. I dabble in experiments like a mad scientist and in typical eccentric fashion watch them blow apart in utter glee! Is that a problem? Not at all. What scares me however is the fact that I’m now growing afraid to experiment and dread the blowing apart of those mad experiments.
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 Where The Mind Goes, The Body Follows

Where is my mind? My mind now runs amok and convinces me to retaliate post haste and return to the lawless lands of my early wanton youth in a desperate bid to recover from this engulfing eclipse of middle age. The rational reason hasn’t fled and is still smiling smugly and laughs at the childish tantrum of my frantic mind. Yet, it is powerless to console and calm the melodramatic meanderings that range from sheer insanity to subversive masochism. What does the future hold in store for a man who cares not for tradition, who chooses to walk the path of solitude - in society, yet not of it. Does the challenges of life bade that he reel back in the herd, embrace the furry warmth of the sheep’s clothing, stop howling at the moon and comfort oneself with a boisterous bleat every once in a while? I know not the answer, but this much I know - the Wolf in me lives for the wilderness and freedom I have always yearned, fought for, secured and lived despite and in spite of all odds, all attempts to domesticate. I seek to live a life of constant motion and intense activity, to find within me ways to get stronger, quicker, richer, smarter and better. My life is just beginning.. want to join me?

 
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