Conquest and Expectation

I once tried to write a science fiction epic called "Conquest." In the first book, the virtuous protagonist defends his galaxy against invasion by an overwhelming fleet led by none other than himself--from the future. What would happen when a thoroughly good man sees that he's thoroughly evil in the future? How do you begin to fight off the expectations? How could you ever fulfill them? I came up with the idea shortly before I was to leave on a two year mission for my church, devoting all my time to proselyting--an activity I had a hard time imagining myself doing. I wrote the outline and first chapters late at night, drinking Vanilla Coke and listening to techno. When I came back from my two year mission, I switched deodorants back to Old Spice--the deodorant I wore while writing the beginnings of "Conquest." The scent instantly (and perhaps oddly) reminded me of that old scifi story I'd kicked around my head those late nights, and the taste of the Vanilla Coke I drank. I still wear the same deodorant, and I'm drinking Vanilla Coke as I write this. Did I expect that four years later, I would wear the same deodorant, drink the same drink and still wrestle with expectations of a future self?