I’m due for some serious weeping, like Julius Caesar before me, I’m a man of 32 years that hasn’t even conquered the world, how could I have ended up on such a tragic trajectory in life?
Sure, I’ve described my current life as ‘living the dream I’d always imagined’ but Alexander the Great ruled all that he surveyed by this time of his life, being dead shortly thereafter is of minor consequence I’m sure.
Having the finest experiences is of top priority to me, food, drink, company, travel, art, I’m here for the good life. I smile frequently and laugh boisterously, life is to be enjoyed.
“Do what you love and never work a day in your life” is advice regularly given and often debated these days. I’m not sure that I subscribe to it myself, but I do enjoy the hell our of my work selling enterprise technology infrastructure. I’m often consumed by the job, pulling all-nighters to meet proposal deadlines, it’s often high-tension and draining, but I love it, especially the feeling of a big win after a contentious negotiation.
With a laser focus on my life and enjoyment some things suffer, old (sometimes new) friendships, family, I’ve regularly struggled communicating with my wife as I’m such a selfish jerk.
I’m also fat and that makes me unhappy, it’s a tall order but I’d like to be sexier, I’ve struggled to deny myself that last bite, or seconds, for a decade.
I’ve been complacent, reeping what I sow, and I find that it hurts me. Thinking about when I’ve see the word complacent, it never seems to preceed more good things for those that are described as such.
Alexander the Great was very likely a man that knew no such feeling of complacency, and a raging alcoholic, while an entire life patterned from his is likely unwise, he rarely had feelings of doubt and inadequacy.
Existence requires effort anyway, might as well get all you want out of it <I make note to repeat to myself when feeling complacent>.