Taking stock, this is today.

A daily 'rant'. 

To be honest with myself, I am a mess. Reflecting on my life's structure, all I see is disorder. I’m too trapped in my own mind. I don’t know how to fulfil this ‘grandfather’ role. I have 8 grandchildren and one great-grandchild. What should I actually do with them? How should I relate to my three daughters? Am I a good husband? If I have to ask, maybe I’m not. Accepting who I am is hard. I never really do, do I? There’s always this nagging feeling that I should be doing better.

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Right now, my mind never rests. There’s a constant conflict between what I should do and what I actually do. I’m never at peace, always searching without knowing why.

Comedy is nearly done, and the bookings have dwindled. So I need to decide what’s next: transition from ‘stand-up comedian’ to a retired figure who was once relatively well-known.

And so I retreat into my own head, and I write. I enjoy writing—even these few nonsensical pages; it gives me an outlet for my thoughts. This, at least, provides some comfort and helps me navigate the confusion in the rest of my life.

Do I still have original thoughts? When I tried to restart my daily podcasts, I realised I have nothing new to say. When I get into current events, I can’t settle on my opinion. Does that make sense?

I lack the certainty of opinionated columnists. I don’t believe in myself. Why would anyone care about my opinions?

So I sink into a sort of self-isolation.

I used to be more resilient and confident, but now I am full of doubt. Sometimes I think I’m slipping into depression (though I’m not—I’m simply turning inward). I’m 73 this year, and if luck holds, I could live 20 more years. What should I do with that time? Twenty years flew by quickly, and I don’t know how to use what’s left.

The irony: writing about how the years fly by, worrying about wasting time while sitting idle. Maybe this is what I should do—write more. What is ‘wasting time’? Isn’t everything just passing time? After all, we know we all die. After death, most of what we do and say is forgotten, so anything could be ‘wasted’ time. It’s all just filler for these years. If everything is filler, nothing stops us from living as we want.

What about living quietly, under the radar? Is that something I could pursue? What makes me happy? I love writing—even when it has no purpose, even for myself alone. Writing calms my racing thoughts and brings some peace.

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It feels like we’re all in a collective depression—a shared sense that the world is grim and we’re destroying it (or our society), at least for those of us who have time to ponder. Yet statistics say we live longer, healthier (here in the West), with better conditions than ever. Why is our outlook so negative? Is it awareness of the cost our ‘luxury’ inflicts? Is it guilt? What pulls us into this gloom? Wars and conflicts? There has never been a time without them. It’s part of us: we love peace, but we also seek reasons to hate.

I realise I live in luxury; in previous centuries, my present life would have suited royalty.

I consume a lot of online nonsense, pseudo-science, and YouTube grifters peddling tips for living fully. That’s a certain path to dissatisfaction.

One ‘doctrine’ claims we can simply choose happiness. Just ignore the negativity around you—isn’t that just being oblivious? It’s like living permanently high.

Today’s conclusion? Life is generally good, but we must prepare for hard times—physically, financially, and, most importantly, mentally. Every situation, mood, and state is temporary. Be as happy as possible with who and where you are, strive for something better (whatever that means to you), and get on with life. Create meaning for yourself. And don’t be me—it’s exhausting.

See ya!