Things to do
So here’s what happened, a couple of months ago, when I was on holiday, I had a realisation. Not the kind of realisation that you’ve left the kettle on or maybe you forgot to wear pants today. But one of those slow burning realisations that take years, decades, to mature. One of those gut freezing moments that occur to us all, but for some reason, we naively think we will be immune to. I don’t think I’ve had one in years but damn…thirty.
Yes, that’s right, nothing special, but damn, thirty. I was supposed to have, you know, done some things by now. Some things! Things I haven’t gotten around to doing yet. Oh yeah sure, I started them, but there was shit on tv and stuff, from about 1989 to 2002.
So there I was sitting by a lake in Sweden, having a beer, and thinking idly that I had better get a move on to finish up a few things before I hit the next stage and everything starts falling to bits and my bones start shrinking. Then the realisation, I only have three months to fit it all in. Fuuuck. Three months, shit, how did I let that happen?
I need to read some big heavy books, or I’ll be one of those people who never read that big heavy book, or this big heavy book until I was, you know, in my thirties.
I need to write things, lots of things. Words mostly.
I need to achieve things, my special purpose or something.
But wait, what if I have already achieved my special purpose and I never noticed.
It was truly a long dark moment of soulful reflection. But I’m not one for personal crises. Not public ones anyhow. So I had another beer and thought about my realisation. I have far too much other stuff to worry about to have any sort of time to be going on some navel gazing journey of self discovery. I mean, it took two months to get this post up.
So there it is, Thirty is coming.
Well, lets be having you then, I got shit to do. I need to read some heavy book or other before I’m forty and there’s stuff on the telly.
This post was sent using GoogleDocs (formerly Writely) and hopefully will not explode the blog.
October 12th, 2006 at 6:20 pm
Ah, thirty. I remember when I turned thirty.
Oh — oh no, wait. That was twenty. HA!
Nah, only kidding. I’ve been thinking about the impending wall of oldness too, even though it’s still a few years away for me. Years are nothing. Inflation’s made them nearly worthless. They’re like seasons used to be.
Math time: today, I’ve been alive for 8,951 days. A year represents 4.08 percent of my life. This time next year, a year will only be worth, what, 3.92 percent? And when you turn thirty, that hits a low of 3.33. Ridiculous, that’s what it is; ridiculous.
Funnily enough I’d started writing a story, the other day, about a man who is about to turn 30 and has a hard time coming to terms with the idea that his twenties were (as he saw it) wasted. It’s tougher for creative types, I think. Toughest of all on the creative and lazy.
But if you can say to youself today I’ve done as much as I reasonably can, you can sleep easy.
October 13th, 2006 at 5:57 pm
Thirty was fairly weird for me, and I only accepted the fact that I was in my thirties when I turned 33.
Glad to see you got GoogleDocs to work; I’m still having trouble with it. Bastards.
October 13th, 2006 at 9:17 pm
Neil, take your filthy numbers and facts out of here please. I’ll never sleep now.
Brian, glad to hear you kept your denial up until your crucifixion year. Once you’re older than Jesus though it must become harder and harder to come to terms with the fact that you may not be the chosen one. Three more years for me then.
October 14th, 2006 at 2:14 pm
[quote]Once you’re older than Jesus though it must become harder and harder to come to terms with the fact that you may not be the chosen one. [/quote]
Feck off young fella.
Sign me,
Grumpy Old Woman
October 15th, 2006 at 5:10 pm
Ah, the wisdom of Methuselah.
October 15th, 2006 at 10:57 pm
Thirty is really not all that bad. I really embraced turning 30. My teenage years were hellish, college wasn’t all that much better, I was fat until I was about 29. So yeah, 30 was sort of a welcome relief.
It’s only 4 years later that I’m starting to have a sort of mid-life crisis - feeling like I should have accomplished more by now than I have.
October 15th, 2006 at 11:15 pm
Hi Ann, welcome to the site. You are right, thirty is not that bad at all and I’m blatantly fishing for undeserved sympathy. Also I needed an excuse as to why I had not been posting much and a mid life crisis was more interesting than just being really, really busy.
Judging by the last three comments 33/34 is when I have to start worrying.
October 15th, 2006 at 11:36 pm
You mean I’m going to have to put up with this again in 3 years time?
October 15th, 2006 at 11:53 pm
No, you’ll be suffering your own age related crises by then.
October 21st, 2006 at 6:42 am
There’s nothing like somebody else’s lamentations … to make you feel old. 34 this year. Yes. I had to do the math just now to figure that one out.
Sigh.
February 23rd, 2007 at 10:32 pm
[...] On to the material. I have culled my list from from various half formed whimsies, vaguely authoritative texts, the subtle canvassing and drunken interrogation, of patient and accomodating friends. Twenty six books is not a lot and I want to cover as much ground as possible. The books below represent a good chunk of the novels I have always wanted to read but, for one reason or another, have never gotten around to. [...]