Last week, i turned 37. Happy birthday to me. Whoopee...37 is... well, it’s 37. Not a decade-marking year, not “silver” or whatever conjured up milestone most other years supposedly are... heck, it’s even a prime number (for all you math nerds out there, you know prime numbers suck simply because they do).
So at 37 i find myself drifting in that undefined space between one’s quarter-life crisis and the hopefully not upcoming mid-life crisis. I can still slide-skate across a mall or the lobby of Antel Global. But as time goes on, i look dumber and dumber while doing it. I’m at that point where making a variety of crazy sound effects in a quiet elevator no longer gets me labelled as “cool, funny, creative dude.” But more often than not, i now get looks that probably mean “you look old enough to probably be retarded for doing that.” Well, screw you. (and yes, you stiffs know who you are.)
But hey, there’s no escaping getting older. Heck, considering my many friends and acquaintances who have gone to the great beyond (a shout-out of RIP’s to Julius, Tina, Marf, Alfred, and others), one should be thankful for each year, each day, and practically every moment that passes by.
If there’s one thing i’ve learned for the past year, is that no matter how dark life sometimes gets, how painful some wounds are, how pointless so many things seem to be, it’s still wonderful to be alive. And I just had a nice massage...
‘catch you later.
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