I won’t be at my 20th high school reunion this year, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I’ve been revisiting my favourite albums. This weekend, I paged through my yearbook (after digging through my parents’s basement to find it).
20 years is forever and a moment at the same time. It doesn’t feel possible that it’s been that long.
I don’t feel good about where I’m at right now, but neither do I feel bad. I wouldn’t have felt any better if I did something just for the money, success. Even in high school, I knew writing was it for me.
(I thought maybe I’d be a college professor with a PhD, writing books during summer break, but that was then.)
I can still make this work, whatever this is.