The Price You Pay

So here I am again, Bubbaloo.

Staring down the end of 2022, wondering what 2023 will bring.

2022 was a complete and total failure for me. And I limp towards the end of it fat, exhausted, disillusioned, and uninspired. Not a pretty picture.

Once again I need to put together a platform, a plan for approaching the new year. Like a politician. But, like a politician, I have zero credibility.

I am as credibile as Lindsey Fucking Graham.

There is nothing I can say that I haven't said before. There are no promises I can make that I haven't made before. I am The King of No Follow-Through. Eleven fucking years with this blog.

Eleven repetitive, whiny, embarrassing years. The same complaints over and over and over. False hope and good intentions that inevitably wind up with me whining some more about how I did not accomplish anything I set out to do. Failure writ large. Unfortunately I am talking about my life. My life, for Christ sake.

I was 57 years old when I fired up this blog. I am 68 years old today. I am standing in the same spot. I have accomplished nothing.

I am obese, I have much less energy than I had then, I am older - nudging up against 70. Jesus fucking Christ. I am sadder, more broken, and very close to giving up on the concept of hope, giving up on ever believing in myself.

And yet I am still alive.

So I have to keep trying. I have to find an approach. Because I feel like such a joke compared to my brother, such a joke compared to my friend Phil. 

I feel so weak around Carol - my own wife, for Christ sake - I am embarrassed in the presence of my own wife, because her life should have been so much more comfortable than it is, and the reason it is not is 100% my fault. She gave 150%, I gave 20%. 

I cannot live with myself like this.

I have not been a man.

I am sure you will hear more from me on this topic before 2022 comes crashing down. 

That is the price you pay for wasting your time reading my blog.