Sometimes you run across a site on the Internet that is written by some self-help guru and designed to help you improve your life. More often than not those sites serve as a platform for the author to brag about his or her amazing life and how you should be just like him or her and then you will be happy. I found one of those sites and it told me to interview myself with the following questions.
So I did.
Dear self, you are 37 years old. What do you have to show for it? Are you living the dream?
What do I have to show for my 37 years? Do you have about, I don't know, 37 years? Number one, I have a tiny human being of my own creation. Sure, I had some help with that but it's still pretty fucking impressive. I mean I MADE A HUMAN. This little human is funny and happy and cute and smart and generally delightful. I am a creator.
I've got a wife. She's the one that helped me make that tiny little human. She's pretty awesome, too. She's smart and funny and thoughtful and über-tolerant and she has good credit. Ooh, I have good credit. That's a thing. Also, my wife is sexy. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that she was sexy.
I've got a house. And a condo. The house is nice and it's big. I wouldn't say it's a big-ass house because, holy shit, have you seen some of the houses in these suburbs? They're enormous. My house is plenty big for my family. The condo was obviously too small for the family so we had to leave. We still own it, though. I guess I also have two mortgages. *Sad trombone*
I've got a car. Well, I have two cars. Well, we have two cars. Cars are dumb, though.
I've got my body. It's in pretty good shape for a soon-to-be old guy. Sure, it's showing a little wear and tear. My hair has been graying for some time and I'll soon be full-on Anderson Cooper but things could be worse.
I've got a steady job where people like me and I don't hate going to work. My boss is awesome.
So that's what I have to show for it. What do you have to show for it? A list of places you've been? A bunch of pictures of mountains and stuff? Yeah, I've got that too. Maybe it's not as extensive or impressive as yours but what's the goal here? Are we trying to out-list each other? Are you trying to help me be happy? I was in a pretty good mood until your blog came along and started asking me the kinds of questions that make me feel inadequate because I haven't lived my life exactly like yours.
Also, can we really have anything? It's all just fleeting, ephemeral stuff that we use and discard and move on from — even experiences. All we really have are our bodies and minds.
Am I living the dream? Not your dream. Hell, I'm not even living a dream at all. I'm living a reality. A good reality. One that is frankly none of your business, Blog On the Internet.
What's next, self?
What's next? Well… In the short term I plan to finish typing this sentence. Long term? I plan to get off this train and go to my car and then drive home. Longer term? Bedtime. Even longer term? Die.
Why do you do the things you do every day?
How am I supposed to live if I don't eat or drink? Or poop. Pooping is underrated as a regular, important activity. It's extremely important. If I didn't poop, I'd die. I mean, those are really the only things I do every day no matter the situation. There's other stuff I do on a pretty regular basis but you didn't ask about that. You asked about the things I do every day. Sleep. I also sleep every day. If you don't sleep you go insane and probably die but I can't be certain about the dying part.
My life is mostly about not dying. Not yet, anyway.
What do you really believe in? (What do you know to be true?)
Can we really know if anything is true? Am I in a dream? Are we all plugged into the Matrix? Is truth even real?
What I know is true:
French fries are delicious.
Anyone who tells you they know anything definitively about God is lying to you.
I sweat more than the average person.
Where do you find your security?
In the lobby. They're always hanging out down there in their ill-fitting blue suits.
What bothers you, and what are you doing about it?
Blogs that pretend to know what's best for me because they've decided that happiness for everyone can be attained the exact same way they attained happiness for themselves. Either we're all unique, beautiful, snowflakes or you're selling bullshit to people who trust TV to tell them how they should be attaining happiness. I'm leaning towards the latter but I'm just the kind of cynic that brings everyone down.
What am I doing about it? Posting on a blog that no one reads. Take that, Snake Oil Salesman.
What worries me?
Just about everything relating to my daughter. Death, disease, assholes, anything that she might encounter in life that I haven't properly prepared her for.
My wife dying. My dog not dying. Running out of M&Ms.
If you had one year left to live, how would you spend it?
Practically, I would try to make sure I do everything I can to leave my wife and daughter as financially secure as I possibly could. But that's not the answer you want. You want me to say something like, "I'd travel the world and learn all the life lessons the world has to teach me," or "I'd feed the hungry children." Honestly, I'd probably try to write a book and fail. I'd probably be pretty tired from all that financial securing and typing and, you know, dying. That tends to take a lot out of you.
Satisfied, Internet Blog?