in the beginning, there was fuck-all

There's really no good way to start a conversation anymore. Not that the conversation won't be engaging, it's more the question of how to tell someone you're planning on doing everything the wrong way because you're convinced thirty years after you die it will be decided you've been right the whole time.
Living the head of a clusterfuck is not only a great deal of pointless work, but also a matter of unexplainable sacrifice and dedication. I mean, you REALLY have to want to do everything wrong just to make a dent in the "what are you doing with your life?" sweepstakes.
I've heard the expressions "big things" or "bigger things" placed on numerous, plentiful banners for as long as I can remember. Not to say it's directed towards myself (though, I have heard it on occassion....), but more on an underlying base that everything and everyone is dropped on with no real start or ending destination.
I don't know what it means, nor do I think I want to know. Imagine living a good full century waiting for your "big things" to happen, and on your dying day, some random bastard walks into your home, taps you on the shoulder and whispers into your wrinkled ear, "it happened when you were eight years old.....you won the second grade spelling bee."
Shit.
Are you kidding me? Second grade?
This, by the way, will not be happening to me because I never won a spelling bee, though I came close in the fifth grade until I studdered and added an extra "o" to the word neighbor, therefore terminating my as-yet ignited legacy.

As far as "big things" that are supposed to be milestones in your life, I have done my best to ruin them or avoid them early on. As this is being written, I sit in front of the keyboard as unemployed, divorced, unable to reproduce, bipolar and antisocial.
All before the age of thirty.
Let the good times roll.

I guess we can assume this is my "big thing".....my "what are you doing with your life?" for dummies. Shit, they've made them for everything else.