Why would you do it? Why would anyone do it? Given the choice I sure as hell wouldn’t do it. It’s not a choice though, is it? It’s just what happens a year or two after you turn 29.
Here I am, 364 days past the last of the twenties. Do I feel older than I felt last birthday? No, I don’t. Perhaps I will at 7am tomorrow. I doubt it. Do I feel as though I have lived 29 complete years, thereby qualifying me to officially turn thirty? Certainly not. I still feel like a kid. I have never felt like a grown-up – nor have I ever acted like one.
Just ask anyone who knows me.
Sure, I do all the mature stuff that a guy my age should do, but that’s only because I thought it was what people expected of me. In fact there’s a quip that I like to deliver to people who question my age or level of maturity – I tell them: “Reckon I was more mature as a 14-year-old than I am now.”
There’s a great deal of truth in that. When I was 14, under the guidance of a throng of educated educators, I was a compulsive planner. I therefore made a lot of goals regarding future life and such. For example:
When I was 14, I set a goal to come home from my 21st birthday party to my own home.
I bought my first house when I was 20.
When I was 14, I set a goal to become a mechanic.
Fortunately I didn’t specify what kind of mechanic, so wasn’t disenchanted at becoming a diesel mechanic.
When I was 14, I set a goal to come home from my 21st birthday party having completed the apprenticeship on my impending mechanic position.
Shit man, I didn’t even have a bloody 21st birthday party – I was too deep in rehabilitation after sustaining massive head trauma in a bloody car crash.
The point though, I was a pretty damn clued up 14-year-old. Despite my excess of premature diligence however, I never afforded much regard to the field of relationships; given my accruing age, it would not an unreasonable expectation that I should be married with children right now.
Shit. Really? I don’t even think I have a girlfriend.
So I messed up there. Planned the shit out of the rest of my life, left out arguably the most important facet. Love. I don’t care what you cold-hearted, ignorant pricks say, love is important. 30 years old tomorrow, having never been loved by a woman. It does matter.
As I said earlier, don’t do it.
Article by Mit Reklaw