What do I really want?
Sometimes all I really want is to be happy. That calm, deep seated, serene sense of happiness. The kind of happiness that knows that everything will be okay. That unwavering, unfaltering, oak tree happiness. The kind of happiness that radiates from your heart, like the gentle heat from embers that burns slow, long and warms all that is near.
Other times what I really want to do is to snort coke off the thick ass of Latina with a tiny waist while she eats out an impossibly long legged Russian, with boobs so big you know they give her back problems. We fuck wantonly for days on large piles of money, indulging in only the finest and unnecessary foods money can buy. Out of season fruits picked and harvested by Guatemalan child labourers grown from Monsanto seeds you know have destroyed entire fertile regions. The flesh of endangered animals, I hear giant turtle is especially delicious. We drink Bordeaux’s finest red wine out of the horns of white rhinoceri, which we carelessly spill on our polar bear skin rugs. I do weird things because what was thrilling is now mundane. I offer people watermelon, needlessly insisting it is of the seedless variety, and declare I’m a generous god when they thank me. I look upon happy families knowing they couldn’t even conceive the pleasure a modern day Caligula like me experiences with a mix of triumph and jealousy because I will never have that life. I’m a wilted flower, drunk with too much sunlight.
Other times all I want is a family. A wife who believes in me and supports me. The smell of her neck being the most intoxicating drug to me and only me. I want kids of whom I’m proud. I want the biggest achievement in my life to be that I raised a stable nuclear family. Kids have had their issues but through encouragement and persistence they pulled through. Their personalities being unequivocally shaped by myself and amazing wife, but yet are unique in fundamental and endearing ways. I want to inspire my kids to create, to grow them into the most genuine versions of themselves. I want my wife to be a source of happiness for everyone around her. I want her to be a fundamental part of her community, I want her to pursue the things she likes. I want her to be fulfilled in a world that has taught her to be unfulfilled. I want to do some of that filling.
The life plan I have right now though is none of these things. Before 30, I want to amass 100k selling my soul as a desk jocky, get my CELTA and move to Russia to teach English as a second language for 3 years. Whilst there I want to take up boxing seriously, learn Russian and work my way through the young and hot my smallish town has to offer (750k people). After I’m done with Russia, I move to Dubai and do the same thing. Whilst in Dubai I learn Arabic, learn how to cook properly and get a stable girlfriend of 3 years to look after me. After that I move to Chile, get another job as an English teacher and learn salsa intensively for 3 years. After I’m done there, I move to Switzerland or Brussels and get a Law degree, with the intention of realising my lifelong dream of working with the UN with my proficiency in Arabic, Russian, French, English and Spanish stacked with my background in political science and international relations.
While I’m living abroad as an English teacher I would like to write a lot, concerning myself with anthropology, sociology and politics. I want to focus on the implications of long winters. I want to assess the impact of warfare on the development of technology. I want to research fecundity, monogamy and nuptuality and show how these things affect the progress of a civilisation as a whole. I also want to write a novel about modern love. How a couple meets, gets together and inevitably entropy rears its ugly head and they fall apart. But who knows if I will ever become that wanky.
All in all that doesn’t sound like a bad life. Here’s to making dreams come true.