The other glorious, inspiring truth is that some people are naturally late bloomers. Leonard Cohen didn’t release his first album until he was 32. Julia Child didn’t move to Paris until she was 36, and she didn’t get her famous television show until she was 51. Wallace Stevens didn’t publish any poems until he was 38. A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada didn’t found the Hare Krishna movement until he was 70. There is time for all of us to figure out what it is we want to do—and to change our minds over and over again, if necessary. No one is timing you. Let me repeat that: no one is timing you.
Though some feminists regard “rape equals devastation” as sacred fact, the notion that a man can ruin me with his penis strikes me as the most complete expression of vintage misogyny available. Common sense instructs us that it is far more “dangerous” to insist to young women that they will be broken by an unwanted sex act than it is to propose they might have a happy, healthy, and sexually pleasant future ahead of them in spite of a sexual assault.
As odd as it may sound, I love these kinds of cities. Not because I have a secret fascination with decadence or criminality, but because Atlantic City, unlike most american cities, does its dirt out in the open. Atlantic City isn’t the girlfriend that secretly does coke and cheats on you – she’s the girlfriend you take to a party and she does coke and cheats on you while your there. And for that, you gotta respect the fuck out of her, even though she’s not right for you.
For all of my people out there that are pursuing their passion, try to build something that brings you a lifetime of joy. Understand that in a world full of people who may have not been given the opportunity to pursue the things they love – you are an exception, and should therefore cherish that opportunity for as long (or as short) as it may last. Be inspired by all the things you don’t know about your craft, and celebrate the fact that get to try to learn them everyday.