I just hit a milestone. Or, more apropos, a big huge milestone hit me right in the face. Or, more apropos yet, a mileboulder. Big goddammed fucking mileboulder. After this summer, life will never be the same (although if you think about it, after every little twitch of the muscle, life is never really the same. The course of the rest of your life is altered by every single seemingly random minutiae of movement. You choose to step on a bug, you leave a smear of goo, someone slips on the goo, breaks their hip, BAM! paraplegic for the rest of their life. So quit squishing bugs!). And I thought I would let it go by as if nothing happened. Can't be done.
I had a birthday. I turned.... I can't say it. It's a big number. It's a number that turns out to be one less than the average age one becomes a grandparent.
HOW DID THIS HAPPEN???!!!!! I'M NOT THAT PERSON!!!! I AM NOT ONE YEAR OFF THE AVERAGE AGE ONE BECOMES A GRANDPARENT!!!!!
Look at my writing!! I have the emotional maturity of an 18 year old! I hold torches (while simultaneously wanting to torch) ex boyfriends. I have BOYfriends, for godsakes!
I know I'm supposed to cherish the passing years, take joy in fantastic health, feel blessed for where I've come from, blah blah. To which I respond, fuck you, you piece of candy assed shithead and I hope you choke on your own sugar-filled bile while having a diabetes induced coma. And that's my birthday wish.
Do you think this is where I envisioned myself at this age? Managing an industrial tool rental department in a large city? Living with a roommate in lower-middle class neighborhood (but it's a fantastic apartment and a great roommie)? Buying moisturizers? Economizing?!
I do not celebrate this birthday; I tolerate this birthday. This is the birthday where I say, 'Finish my Master's? Ehh, why bother....' This is the birthday where I can no longer shop in Abercrombie and Fitch. This is the birthday where I contemplate the advantages of joining AARP (in a few years). This is the birthday where I don't pluck the greys.
Don't misinterpret me- I'm not sad or regretful. I'm shocked that this came so fast. Wasn't I sneaking cigarettes in the back yard just a few years ago? Doing 11pm rehearsals for Naturalism class just a few months ago? Smoking doobies yesterday? What the Hell have I been doing?
So resolved: I'm not where I want to end up, so I'll take steps to where I want to be. Maybe I won't get to where I planned, but I can try.
I'll figure out where I want to be. Soon.
I just saw the 'We Are the World' video remake for Haiti for the first time. I didn't know anyone in the video except Barbra Streisand and Tony Bennett. God - I'm 46.
About Me
- trying to begoode
- New York, NY, United States
- on a quest to expand my horizons
3 comments:
OK this is why I hate you. This post is sooo annoying to those of us who have already passed your stupid milestone. We all buy moisturizers and economize. Get over it bro. Get where you want to go; do whatever it takes. I think everyone is searching. It's the big secret we all keep from each other. Restless Life Syndrome.
Having said that, I mentioned to a "friend" the other day that a couple of my professors mentioned (actually encouraged me to consider) pursuing a Ph.D.
"Wouldn't it be so cool to be DR. GUBELMAN?"
To which she replied,"Yeah, I guess it will look great in your obituary." aaarrggghhhh......
So that sounded a bit harsh maybe. Just maybe.
Anyway, you'll figure out whatever it is you need to do. I think Eric displayed wisdom when he said that we don't need to define ourselves by our jobs. (He hadn't even read your blog BTW) Lots of people don't get defined until "later in life." That's what keeps me going....
If we define ourselves by those we affect in one way or another (even through squishing a bug), then I think you have added lots of value to society. You'll be fine. You already are.
When you figure out how to figure out where you want to be, will you let me know how you figured it out? I feel your pain.
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