By the standards I set when I was 25, I’m a failure today.
But if I had done all the grandiose things I planned back then — and gained immense wealth and power as a result — I would have been a complete failure by the more mature standards I set for myself today.
It’s a paradox. I had to lose everything I once valued — and I had to wander in the desert for a metaphorical 40 years — to finally arrive at a place where I feel qualified to even start living a life worth living.
I have struggled through years of what felt like defeat and exile. I felt as though I had blown my chance to do the things that matter to me. But something has changed.
I’ve realized that I am entering into my best period yet — intellectually, creatively and emotionally. I am finally where I wish I could have been at 25 or 30. I had to take a long but necessary detour — and I’ve finally arrived at the start of my life.

When times turn too dark in my life, I’m grateful for furry antidepressant
Social media is an addictive drug, so I’m kicking my Facebook habit
Your healing can begin with Political Junkies Anonymous
‘Post-racial’ America? We’re nowhere close to that — and may never be
Members of Congress can’t tell constituents ‘Merry Christmas’
For pure ignorance, it’s hard to beat Occupy Wall Street protest signs
Conflicting expectations can kill even the deepest love and hope
Shingle reminds me what it felt like for someone to believe in me
Little girl’s face and colorful sky have power to pierce my heart