I'm a 36 year old anesthesiologist with a daughter, a wife, and a mortgage. In high school, I prepared for college. In college I prepared for med school, then residency, then fellowship, then the real world. Now I'm here.
So what now?
There's nothing to strive towards other than the goals I set for myself. I must admit, however, I am neither menacing nor a particularly good task master. Why the hell should I listen to me? Certainly I could write a novel, master Jujitsu, trek the Sahara, publish scientific and philosophical articles, climb mount whatever is the tallest. Or I can veg out on the couch and watch Jersey Shore. Who's going to stop me? Me? I weigh all of 145 pounds. I could kick my ass!
I do have plans, however. I want to be a writer. Novels, plays, screenplays, and apparently blogs. But let me tell you how I envision this goal: dancing with my wife to Justin Timberlake's SexyBack at an after-Oscar party sipping Cristal until 4 a.m. (Realistically it would be a Corona and we'd be back by 11 using the babysitter as an excuse while hiding our obvious exhaustion from staying up past 10.) That's my writing goal.
What I'm hoping to find out from you is that this is a normal goal for a 36 year old anesthesiologist with a daughter, a wife, and a mortgage.
Right?...
Hello?...
Bueller?...
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