I turn 46 this week. I’m still trying process that particular piece of information.
If I had to pick the most difficult year of my life to navigate, I’d have to pick 27. Quite a few things happened that year that started to make a hard look at where I was in life and where I was headed. I used to say I had my head fully in my hindquarters until I was 31, sometimes I’m not sure it still isn’t in there.
I’m almost 46. I’ve been married almost 15 years. That means I was 31 when I got married. Based on the statements that you’ve read so far in this post, I’ll let the reader draw their own conclusions.
One of the more soul-crushing experiences in my life was the first time I discovered that I was too old to apply for a job. It seems that you have to be younger than thirty to be an air-traffic controller – something I contemplated doing once upon a time in my life. For the record, police officer, firefighter, and soldier are also no-go’s.
In my twenties, a half case a beer was the standard for a weekend night. I currently have a part of a six-pack in my fridge that’s headed into its fourth week of habitation.
Reviewing my life, I really shouldn’t be here. Stupidity or hubris should have killed me well before now.
In my twenties I wanted to play a electric bass in the worst way. My eldest daughter has a spare one in her room, I’ve never picked it up. I could say that I don’t have the time or we don’t have a second amp and get away with it, but that isn’t the reason. If I had the passion for it, I’d find a way. Besides, I’ve moved on to pining over the cello.
My FitBit today informed me that I exercised for sixteen minutes. I didn’t. As near as I can figure, I got credit for playing air guitar while playing dinner. I wonder what my neighbors must think about a man my age rocking out to Minor Threat in his kitchen. They probably thought I was having a seizure.
Speaking of Minor Threat, I wish I would have known about them in the early 90’s. They’re a recent addition to my playlist. See? An old dog can learn new tricks.
I find hard core punk to be quite motivational on my runs. Why? ‘Punk’ and ‘slow song’ are generally mutually-exclusive terms.
Speaking of running, that hasn’t happened much the past few days. I put quite a few miles in early this week, then managed to get sick with some sort of upper respiratory thing. Getting sick when you have to ‘adult’ really sucks and the older you get, the worse it gets.
I don’t work my birthday, not if I can help it. I had one really horrendous experience once while working my birthday – someone (not me) got suspended, my employer got sued, and the people we worked for were… err… not very nice – and I’ve only worked one or two times since. This week is no exception. I plan on enjoying myself.