A Healthy Dose of Discontent

I was just walking down the street today, mindin' my own, talkin' to the Moms, when in the middle of our conversation, she makes the very mom-like comment, "well, you're not getting any younger." Wow. Even though I kept rapidly putting one foot in front of the other, because I was late to work again, my world came to a screeching halt. Seriously. I could almost hear the squealing of brakes and tires as my somewhat comfortable little existence braked so fast my chest hurt from the seatbelt. Here I am cruising along, thinking I'm clever at having manufactured my life in such a way that I only work part-time, sleep till noon, and often have more free time than I know what to do with (oh wait, I think I'll just sleep some more), and then she has to go and say something like that, pouring salt in the ever growing wound who's scab I began picking at a couple of weeks ago. It's all I've been able to think about these days, especially since my birthday is creeping up with all the leisure of a speed locomotive.

I used to love my birthday. I still declare March 1 as the day when I absolutely refuse to do anything I don't want to do. Yet now, it brings with it all these dismal thoughts of the massive amounts of time that have already passed, the scarce minutes remaining in what people term my "youth," and an immense dissatisfaction with my current path of choice. Why am I not riding a gondola in Italy right now? Why does my life feel like anything but an adventure and why are people giving me books to read whose sole intent and purpose is to make us question the completely uninteresting aspects of our lives? I can't handle much more of this. It's overwhelming me to the point of not being able to do much about it save finding some series/movie to watch online that completely numbs my mind to the havoc being wreaked upon it by this debilitating discontent. I could use my own dose of radical vision, instead of hearing church vision talked about so much with all this excitement about things that I couldn't feel more removed from. I. Just. Don't. Feel. It. My apathy seems unable to be more inopportune. Can I just stop thinking for once in my life about being a person who chose differently?