Golden Handcuffs

Sometimes I think being an overly self-aware insomniac book nerd is more trouble than it's worth.

While reading in the wee hours of the morning, I recently came across passages in two books that made me pause and reflect on the path my life has taken.

Don't get me wrong. I like to introspectively examine my life as much as the next person. At the same time, I believe that too much introspection can frequently become a masturbatory exercise in self-absorption.

To tell you the truth, I often think it'd be better if I slept more and read less. 

Anyway, here are the two passages.

The first is from James Frey's "My Friend Leonard."

"Gauguin was a stockbroker in Paris, married, had five kids. One day he came home and told his wife he was leaving, that he was through supporting the family, that he had had enough. Just like that he fucking took off. He said he had always felt he was a painter, so he moved to a rat-infested shithole and started painting. His wife begged him to return, his bosses told him he was insane, he didn't care, he was following his heart. He left Paris, moved to Rouen, went from Rouen to Arles, from Arles to Tahiti. He was searching for peace, contentment, trying to fill that fucking hole he felt inside, and he believed he could fill it. He died in Tahiti, blind and crazy from syphilis, but he did it. He filled his fucking hole, made beautiful work, made beautiful, beautiful work."

The second is from Nick Hornby's "Juliet, Naked."

"I have a thing for Dickens. I'm reading his letters at the moment. There are 12 volumes of them, and each one is several hundred pages long. If he'd only written letters, he'd have had a pretty productive life, but he didn't only write letters. There are four volumes of his journalism. He edited a couple of magazines. He squeezed in an unconventional love life, and a few rewarding friendships. Am I forgetting anything? Oh, yeah: a dozen of the greatest novels in the English language. He's pretty much the one guy whose life you could look at and think, man, he didn't mess around.

But there aren't many people like old Charles. Most humans don't get to do work that's going to last. They sell shower curtain rings, like the John Candy character in that movie. (I mean the rings might last. But they're probably not what people talk about after you've gone.) So it's not about what you do. It can't be, can it? It has to be about how you are, how you love, how you treat yourself and those around you, and that's where I get eaten up."

Regarding the above, I know only four things. All are related to one another (the first two are probably inversely related, the second two perhaps a little less so.)

(1) My daughter means everything in the universe to me.

(2) Quite honestly, there are moments when the thought enters my mind that caring for her has removed options in my life that would possibly otherwise make my life more personally fulfilling.

(3) I have a job that pays well, provides little intellectual or emotional challenge, and does not require much effort. However, this job not only ensures for my daughter's well-being but also allows me to spend an inordinate amount of my free time with her (which is partly what attracted me to it in the first place.)

(4) I have never defined myself by what I do.

Before we go any further, let me just say that I am acutely aware that even having these thoughts is a luxury of which I am not unappreciative. This blog has always been a place where I sort out my thoughts in written form.

Shit, if my health insurance covered therapy, this site probably wouldn't even exist.

All I'm saying is that, regardless of one's station in life, I think it's healthy to sometimes visualize or fantasize about the life that you want to live. Frequently, this forces you to make extremely tough decisions that seem painful but may ultimately make you much happier.

On the other hand, this is also probably the kind of thinking that made John Travolta turn down the lead role in "Chicago" THREE times so he could focus on his real passion project..."Battlefield Earth."

Look, I'm not going anywhere or enacting any serious life changes anytime soon. At the same time, I sometimes make mental lists of alternate lifestyles I fantasize about living if I didn't have a child. 

Here's the current short list:

• Living in a small studio apartment in Paris with a girlfriend and spending all our free time reading and writing together in a dingy cafe in the Latin Quarter, where we would both wait tables just enough to pay the rent.

• Apprenticing with a top sushi master in Japan and then opening my own restaurant in the East Village that would only seat 6 people at any given time.

• Moving to Colorado, being a ski bum in the winter and a fly-fishing bum in the summer.

• Working as a foreign war correspondent alongside Christiane Amanpour.

When I shared these thoughts with a buddy of mine, he told me I was having a mid-life crisis and that I should just shut up and buy a Porsche.

This led to a very in-depth conversation that ultimately provided great insight and incredible perspective on my future professional life and emotional well-being. I couldn't believe that after 40 years on this planet that have involved much soul searching and professional therapy, I had finally figured out in this one conversation what I would truly enjoy doing with the rest of my life if I didn't have a child.

I'd be Batman.

Just kidding.

Kind of.

In all seriousness, do any other parents out there fantasize about how your life would be different without kids or a spouse? If you're single or childless, are you living your life how you'd imagined? Why or why not?

An inquiring insomniac wants to know.

Comments

[papa2hapa]

I'm living the fantasy, my friend. And I'm going to write about it. Just like you are. It seems you're living the life you want, and love expressing it.

[Paige Jennifer]

My sister, mom to two tots, envies my ability to pick up and go. She loves her children but often ponders childless what-ifs.

She's especially envious because in July I will receive my MFA and I've already spent two months figuring out how to pull off your Paris idea. Besides the issue of selling my condo and ditching my car, I can somewhat speak French but haven't conjugated a verb since 1992. Do we think that will matter?

[anonymous]

paul is right. write. you have a gift.

[kittenpie]

Of course everyone fantasizes. Of course, my fantasies usually involve doing the something else fabulous for a little while, then returning to what I live now.

And about sushi - you mean you want to own Masi, is what you're saying?

[sheena]

I can totally relate. I'm 35 with 3 kids, a work-a-holic husband. And I stay at home, make half-hearted attempts at painting. I gave up an art career and would never push my kids aside just to paint. I think about 'what could have been' all the time. Makes me feel really guilty. But somehow that fantasy is a safe place. It makes me feel happy to imagine another me, but not me. My doppelganger with awesomely layered, long, side-swept banged hair whipping around with paint on her cheeks. Converse on her feet, skinny jeans and carrying a canvas to some amazing gallery that doesn't sell art. It just shows art so people can see it and absorb culture. I can't do that when I'm 45!

[John]

Probably I'd wish I had kids. Weird.

[Paula]

I'm a single mother with four kids, and, as I've been a parent nearly my entire adult life, I can't even begin to imagine life minus the children. Maybe I'm too literally minded, or maybe I just intertwine my sense of self too much w/ those pesky munchkins.

However---there are many financial struggles, and I keep a running list of our "better life" and buy the items one by one to make it so. Likewise, the chickens and I talked about our dream house, and wrote down its attributes, as it seems having a specific goal in mind is the best way to make it happen.

Someday.

[Lane]

41 is not old by the way. :)
Your blog is so refreshing compared to the singaporean mummies one who can only talk about the happiness of parenthood , which always make me question if there is something wrong with me always grousing in my own.
By the way, one of your fantasies about living Paris was what that sparked of this comment. We probably are along the same line, except that i really cannot imagine my life without my son now. My version of the Paris is, living there with him, wait tables or whatever crap, but just with him and no hubs.
Without kid? Prob living in Tokyo, teach and party in my free time.

[Judy]

We all do the best we can or want. I could do more with my life, but I think it is great to work hard while I am at work and play as hard as I work. I may not have anyone remember me when I am gone, but you never get the real story about history anyways.

[Kim]

This is interesting to think about. I would not get my head too turned around about it. Your life is your life. I am glad that you like to spend time with your beautiful daughter. To me that is the most important thing.

[Katy]

You explain it so, well. I love to read you post. You always make me think, good or bad. Thanks.

[Mia]

You have said what alot of us are thinking. I love your articles.

[ngy]

I think the q are going to throw a lot of ppl into a loop cos you are going to worry or dream differently either situation given!

I guess for me; grateful while being single cos I'll outlive the freedom one day, and grateful when I have kids one day cos they'll grow up too soon.

If I dont have both, at least I have gratitude which makes the days short. Somehow, that seems sad, but I dont live life thinking "What if."

[we]

In the shop ed hardy we can buy different

[Sean Sutton]

I know you wrote this quite some time ago... but it's never too late for a comment. Thanks for this. It made me laugh - and relate. It will also help me to be more honest in my own blog. It's sometimes hard to be honest when the whole world's reading, but then, the honest posts are the best ones.

Oh, and in my "Secret Life"(a great song by Cohen, by the way), I'd be an important but bourgeois diplomat and live in Paris. I'd also write novels and for sexy magazines like Vanity Fair.

[Uday]

Yuck on all of the above except for the Godiva coikoes. But then I saw that they cost $43.00 which is obscene. I sat behind Jake and his girlfriend Reese Witherspoon at the play August: Osage County in NY last spring and I admit they were a very attractive couple. But he was wearing a shirt, thank God. (Would he really take a photo like that or was his head grafted onto that body in PhotoShop?) But then they left during intermission. WTF?