I have been thinking about my past a lot recently. I watched a game on Sunday, and the memories of times gone by really came back to me. I can quite clearly remember sitting by the sidelines - the smell of the grass, the shouts on the air, the cool breeze of a summer's evening. Those times were very special to me.
I think the reason i have been thinking so much about the past is that i am starting to realise that i am getting old. I had a long chat with a friend of mine today. He too is getting this sense of dissatisfaction. I am twenty eight now. I am married. I have bought an apartment. My wife wants to start a family. I miss my long lazy days of student life. I miss the sense that the future was a great unknown. Life seems all of a sudden very planned out for me. 2.4 children and a family saloon.
Its not that I am unhappy or that my life or outlook is negative. I just feel that I want to re-connect with the John of six or seven years ago. The John who wanted to be a writer. The John that had a free spirit - shaved head and funky clothes. I miss that part of me.
I am also home sick. I miss walking down streets that i have always known, drinking in pubs where people know my name, know my parents, know where i live.
On the plus side, i have made an appointment with my doctor so that i can get a referral to a plastic surgeon and maybe have one more nose job. But again, now that i am getting older, maybe I should just learn to live with the face I have?
I am thinking of going back to university by night. I am torn between studying something that would further my career - something boring like accountancy or finance - or something that would rekindle my passion - english literature, history, or archeology.
I have just finished saul bellow's 'the dangling man'. That is how one writes something in the style of a journal.
If anybody ever reads these entries, they must suspect me of dreadful self-pitying. But that is not a fair reflection. This is just a great place to release my thoughts.