Report: Progress, lack of

Preparing madly (as in "insanely" not "with great haste and effort") for another week in London, to celebrate my fiftieth birthday this weekend. I have been avoiding thinking about this for weeks if not months now, because I find it just too depressing for words. How can I be a half-century old already with so little to show for it? Blah.

Flights booked, again through Zurich: trading money for time in well-established late-capitalist manner. Readers in or near London who might wish to meet for a drink (or a bookshop or whatever) are encouraged to send me a tickle by e-mail (top left).

I hesitate about the job in Münster still. Part of me says — with a certain amount of impatience — that the universe has given me the nudge that I wished for at Easter, and that I should bloody well grasp the chance to make some long-desired and overdue changes. I should therefore embrace this earnestly and with both hands, and move to Münster as soon as possible. Another part reminds me that it means leaving all my contacts, friends and customers, leaving the shops and cafés and restaurants where I am known; in short, leaving behind most of what makes my life comfortable. This part suggests that I should rather delay moving as long as possible, to wait and see whether the Münstermeister will really insist on my presence there.

To tell you the truth, I am getting somewhat tired of that second voice. It sounds like the backdrop to every decision I ever made (or fudged for so long that Life let me off the hook by making it for me). I think I should fire that voice and get some new advisors.

Fragments of a recent conversation in Second Life.

Me: I have noticed in myself that I often aim to miss, because success brings responsibility and the risk of making changes to accomodate it.
Me: I have been quite thoroughly irresponsible all my life, really.
She nods understanding.
Me: Here I am at age 50 without pension or health insurance, living alone and from month to month, no savings at all -- and the second-largest chunk of my time and energy goes on Second Life.
She strokes [my] forehead.
Me: He needs it.
She: Yes.
She: You have been sounding lonely lately.
Me nods.
Me: Yes, I have been lonely. I am coming to terms with leaving Stuttgart and all my friends and business partners and the stores where I am known.
She sighs.
Me: And frankly I don't want to do it.
She nods.
Me: But I sure as hell need the money. And the health insurance and pension that it would bring. The hourly rate isn't great, but there are enough hours that it would increase my income by over a third.
Me: There is no reason I could not save that third right off the top.
Me: I don't know whether to mourn this or welcome it.
Me: And I cannot talk about it with anyone in RL because they are all involved. G and U are furious and heartbroken at my leaving, they feel abandoned.
She nods.
Me: And I have realized that they are about 70% of my social life here.
Me: I will have an *enormous* amount of time to fill in Münster; either tango or SL or the gin bottle. and god help me if it's the latter.
She: I hope it's SL.
Me: Well, no, I don't fear that. I have no inclination to drink or drugs, none at all. Unless you count this as a drug
Me: or Internettery generally.
She: Misread that as "internuttery"
Me: ha!
She laughs.