If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t. Not that this pertains to anything in particular, but perhaps that’s the point.

The roommate and I, in our ever-continual remarkable discussions, were chatting last night about missed opportunities in life. Regrets. And while I try to live life without regretting anything, I always seem to lose at that. I’ve begun to think that I regret most things in my life, whether they deserve this emotion or not. Hell, it’s safe to say that I regret having regrets (and more regrets only begets more regrets, and…ok I’m done).

I’m the type of individual who, in the long run, doesn’t trust their own decision making capacity. I don’t trust that, whatever my choice is, that this affirmation is the better of the two scenarios. The other is always the wiser choice, and I failed to make that. And even if the result isn’t failure, and my original decision was made in the best light of things, I always just chalk it up to some cosmic fortune floating freely in the air…not my own analytical abilities.

So what regrets take the proverbial cake in my life? Not staying diligent with my music. Not following my dream of learning how to spin soul records. Not learning more in school when I had the chance. Not giving hockey a shot as a sport.

But here’s the catch. The normal, unbiased person’s response to this would surely be: You play and write music just fine. It’s still not too late to get some turntables and vinyl. You don’t have to stop learning now. Why not join a rec hockey league? Because, in my mind, it’s too late. The time for realizing all of this is gone.

I believe that as we slowly morph from adolescent to adult, with it comes the ability to let go of dreams; to sweetly surrender to roads not taken and aspirations left to die. We come to embrace the idea that life is finite, that all things cannot possibly be done in 24 hours, and more importantly that everything comes at a cost. Sure I could practice writing and playing music a few hours a day to get my creative wind back. I most certainly could buy the equipment and teach myself the art of dj’ing. But at what cost? No time for reading, neglected household duties, missed workouts or less sleep.

I suppose in the end it’s all about balance. And for me, learning that whatever cannot get balanced doesn’t mean that I’m a failure. If I choose my health over something I’ve always wanted to learn, I suppose that I’m still a valid person. It’s just coming to trust this that’s the hard part.