Weirdly, lots of folks I know at retirement age retire, then simply have no idea what to do with themselves. They've never cultivated a meaningful hobby or interest in the all the years of workaholism. The ones that vaguely remember something they wanted to do in their 20s find themselves fighting off a constant urge to sit in an office and work.

A few folks I've known worked until they simply couldn't, then died a few months later.

I'm reminded of my own father, who worked like a dog since he was a pre-teen, and simply hasn't been able to come to terms with retirement, choosing to start another job in his elder years instead of writing, painting and fishing which he has an obvious talent and interest in.

I tell myself that I won't succumb to this failure to live life and try to overcompensate a bit by traveling a lot, photography and many stalled attempts at writing. I wonder what would happen if I got fuck you money and if I could discipline myself to follow up to my passions instead of trying to fit them into my free time.