I’ve always thought I had plenty of time.
No matter what happened to me, I had plenty of time to change things. I had plenty of time to try again. Plenty of time to fix my mistakes.
When I became managing editor of a small daily newspaper while I was still just 21 years old, I thought I was way ahead of schedule. I had plenty of time and I was going to live up to my potential. I was going to do great things.
When I started my own newspaper company in my late 20s, I was pleased with myself. But then my company failed by the time I was 30. But I still had plenty of time.
When I became a political consultant a few years later, I thought I was finally on track. Surely this was where I would make my mark. I was going to be someone important.
Politics led to a high income, but nothing of importance. I wasted 20 years. I ended up divorced. I had nothing to show for my life yet. But I still had plenty of time.

When times turn too dark in my life, I’m grateful for furry antidepressant
Unmet childhood needs trigger addiction as I try to fill inner hole
Anarchist vs. minarchist debate misses the shift to post-statist world
Doing it for the children? No, they’re doing it for the TV cameras
Without peaceful breakup plan, U.S. faces violent, angry collapse
Political action may seize power, but only ideas bring real change
I’ll make fun of your Super Bowl, but you can’t make fun of my Spock ears
The advice people need is rarely what they’re expecting to hear
Some of us feel rage at authority, even as disobedience can hurt us