Welcome to my mid life crisis.

Over the last 12 months a lot of extraordinary things have happened to me – I turned 40 (then 41!) with no discernible effort or consequences, welcomed my new son to the world and I ticked off numerous goals that I had no idea how I was going to attempt let alone achieve.

Despite all that, there has been a gnawing sensation that I have somehow failed to make my mark in the world, that with my life at the halfway point I have underachieved.

It gradually dawned on me that I was starting to have my MID LIFE CRISIS! What to do?

Buy a red sportscar!
(With what? I have three kids you know, do you know how much those things cost? Where would you put the car seats? The speed limit is only 110km, no point going faster than that! It will pick up all these little dings from the supermarket and crèche carparks. What about the insurance and petrol?)

Hook up with a hot 20 year blonde!

(Why? I’m more in love with my wife than I have ever been. I’d miss the kids too much. I would need to get in shape first, do you know how much energy it would take to keep up with someone that young? Frankly, sleeping with a woman half my age seems a bit creepy.)

Chuck in my job, refuse to work for ‘the man’ anymore!

(Does anyone really say “the man” anymore? This does sound like a good idea for the first few weeks, but I’m not sure how my parents will react when we are forced to move in with them because the house keys have gone to the bank. I guess I’ll live in the caravan, the kids can visit on the weekends and live in the house during the rest of the week.)

And so on and so on.

And then it afternooned on me. (I was going to say ‘dawned’ again, but I thought it was sounding too clichéd. Afternooned hasn’t really worked as I would’ve liked though).

My burning ambition since I was 8 or 9 was to be a writer (and an astronaut and a Carlton footy player in the winter and an Australian cricket player in the summer). Over the years, these ambitions have been let go – even though I’m still waiting for the call up to fill an unexpected team vacancy, I know that I don’t run as fast as I used to and I can’t throw the ball as far as I could 25 years ago. I (reluctantly) accept that I may not actually be called up at all.

I don’t do well in confined spaces, so the astronauting gig may be out as well in the short term – not ruling it out all together though. Happy to tough it out if needed, but it is a tad unlikely I'll be required.

Which then, inevitably leads me back to writing.

Look, to be honest, I’m not sure how many people will actually read this. I can probably count on one or two to read the blog occasionally, but I’m sure I will be doing this for my own pleasure. And that is ok with me.

It’s said that to get better at writing, you have to write. I have many great 1st chapters of books, but have never progressed past that point. I started a Diploma of Writing course, but had to give that up when I started working full time. I have many starts, but have always scared myself and stopped.

This blog is a way for me to practice writing without thinking, without scaring myself. It’s a way for me to re-capture the joy of writing I had when I was 9,10,11,12,13 and 14 years old. I have no expectations that I will write a book and become financially comfortable: I just want to have some fun with it.

I think it has a bit more dignity that letting my comb-over gently waft in the breeze while I’m driving my shiny red convertible.