The Future is Now
2021 and I still don’t have a flying car or a hoverboard. As someone who grew up in an era where “the year 2000” sounded very futuristic, 2021 still carries the implication of space colonies and teleporters to me. Unfortunately, it’s not even close. We’re still trying to convince skeptics how communicable diseases work and arguing about a flat earth.
Of course, I’m not sure why we think the prognosticators of the 80s could predict the future when we can barely predict the present. At the beginning of 2020, I’d never have said I’d see fewer than 5 concerts the whole year, avoid the inside of restaurants after mid-March, watch my company go under, or plan my whole life around getting a shot in the arm, yet here we are. It feels like there isn’t much point in making resolutions when so much is out of our control.
We often see New Year’s resolutions as a chance to reinvent ourselves, but I’m 43 years old. That ship has sailed. Instead, I’d like to approach the new year with open eyes. If 2020 has taught us anything, it’s that we have to adapt to our circumstances. The things we imagine ourselves to be often aren’t really at the essence of who we are.
One of the things I realized when designing this new website was the fact that I had nothing on it about my job. Yet that’s how I spend most of my waking hours. It’s one of the first characteristics I offer up when I meet new people. So much of our identities are wrapped in our professions, and for me, that was a troubling point when my company imploded last March. I had been there 13 years and probably would have spent the rest of my career there, but that wasn’t in the cards. So who was I going to be if I didn’t have a job? Was this the time to forget about a day job and finally “be a writer” as if those things are mutually exclusive? How would I describe myself without an official job title?
I was fortunate to land on my feet and quickly find a great role at a new company, but it’s also worth pointing out that the other things I love—my wife, my artistic endeavors, travel, food—are as much a part of my identity as the line at the top of my resume. I often talk about how my work and my hobbies feed both sides of my brain, as if they are in constant battle for supremacy. But that’s not how it should be.
So this website is dedicated to all of the things that make me who I am. It’s got easier access to read my stories, a much better showcase for my burgeoning painting portfolio, and plenty of music I’ve created, both by myself and with friends. And while I’d like to say I’ll update it a little more frequently, I also like to quote Al Swearengen from Deadwood: “Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh.” Instead of resolving to paint more or write more stories or finish that damned novel, I’d like to instead focus on better incorporating those objectives into the official canon of Steve Trumpeter. This website is the documentation of that pursuit for anyone who is interested. I hope you find something you like here.