Tuesday, April 22, 2025
Time: 6:30 PM
Song: Real World
Artist: Big & Rich
Mode of Consumption: Listening to MP3s on shuffle while painting shelves in shed.
Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/0KcCCRdjjXfjWilwJiigr7?si=2665dff4b64d491a
We visited our money manager at Edward Jones this afternoon to talk about what is suddenly feeling like the not-too-distant future: Retirement.
Jodi and I both have our eyes on retiring by the time we are fifty-five. I turned forty-three on Sunday. Twelve years, max. It’s not a far-fetched goal either.
It’s hard to believe, especially since I still sometimes find myself wondering what I am going to do when I grow up.
When I was a kid, I thought maybe I’d hit it big by playing in the major leagues. Pretty quickly, I realized I wasn’t that good at baseball, and while I was a more natural football player, I was neither fast enough nor big enough to make that a reasonable goal. I dreamed of becoming a rock star, but really had no musical training or talent. My best shot was writing, and it took me a long time to get confidence to show anyone that.
Through high school I flipped through career books and could never really decide on what I wanted to do, especially for thirty or forty years of my life.
In that regard, I suppose it’s worked out. I spent eleven years as a sports journalist. It was both rewarding and challenging, exciting and exhausting, and ultimately something I couldn’t do forever.
The last decade I’ve been in the world of proposal writing. It’s a completely different vibe, and with any luck, I’ll be able to keep this gig for twelve more years.
I guess I feel like I’ve been living by the “fake until I make it” motto. I still dream of becoming a bestselling author, even though I suspect if I ever publish something, it’ll be received with little to no acclaim.
The good thing is it looks like that won’t be earth shattering from a financial aspect, so long as the current world’s economic climate doesn’t completely implode.
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