Viva La Vida

I have not written in... years.
Years?
It seems weird to say it, but it's true.
The last few years have been new. I have experienced the strange feeling of (finally) being a grown up. The strange feeling of the security net being withdrawn under your feet, and your flaws looming ever larger above your head.
The feeling... of this realization, both frightening and challenging that, this you, is the final you. You have metamorphosized into your final form.
You are now a person - in the real world.
No more 'try ball'.

With this change, with this growth, have come new dilemmas, have come new responsibilities.

Like money.
It is no more an endless supply (not that it ever was; nor rather, as it always seemed to be, given enough persuasion). That well is dry.
And a new well has been dug. My own. And I am responsible for it.

And with this great responsibility, comes great power. The future.

Most of my friends and I are shining examples of the second or third generation of the middle class. It's true, whichever way you look at it. I have rarely seen the people I socialize with (the only people, truth be told, who will read this) having had the privilege of tapping into a family fortune. The reason for that is simple - there is no family fortune.
Or more commonly - your family's money is not for you. It is for your children, and their children.
Not for you. You work, you slave, and you better well fucking add to it.

I am 25 years old today. I have, at the very fucking best, and if medicine basically becomes miraculous - 50 more years to live. I have already lived a third of my life. In ten more years, if I'm extremely lucky and I have settled down - I will have lived half of my life.
And so will have she who I have hopefully settled down with.

And what will we have done?
Found a mate. And reproduced.

You know, most apes achieve that. And they reproduce.

The fact that two people love each other so much, that they are willing to commit the rest of their lives to being together, merits a deeper meaning than to just reproduce.
It merits, at the very least, a partnership - a partnership to live together and experience new things together.

Lovely.

We deal with our messes together, sweetheart!
We are become one.

But then the center of a lot of lives becomes money. Yet we all end up earning it, somehow.

Since we're all going to be investing in "property", and since we're all dabbling in "stocks" and oh this or that "startup", and neither and naught of these things are going to make us millionaires - I say fuck...this...shit.

Unless you think you have a winning idea (remember, we all think we do...('bas time chahiye yar')), which you want to invest in and make a fortune off of - other than that, what is it all, but pointless? We will do nothing but sit on money and hope it goes somewhere.

It would be infinitely better if all that I could ever earn were used to travel.
And not to fucking Manali, or Shimla, or Goa.

You know what I want to do? And what I hope and plan my wife and I are going to do?
We are going to fucking Africa, and then South America and Machu Pichu, and Cambodia... and then? Nope... not done.
We are going to see things, Notre Dame, Angkor Wat and the Pyramids and the Sphinx, swim in the Mediterranean, go to Alaska, and... - We are going to see everything we can, before the end.
Fuck...
Yes...

Fuck yes.

Listen, I don't know what the future holds for me. Or for you.

Insignificance is inevitable. 

I just want to experience as much of this trip as I can.

For it certainly seems fleeting, life.

Viva La Vida.