I turn thirty-six in less than a month.
This one is going to be tough. Perhaps harder than thirty. And I had a moment of cruel detachment before thirty. Which I excused at the time as doing a public service.
And why is it going to be tough? Because the mental picture was married by thirty-six. And no matter how much I can pull back and be totally logical (I have a great life . . . I live like a rock star . . . I can do exactly what I want, when I want to . . . and make enough money to do just that . . . ), it's still the mental picture. So grieving for an idea. And perhaps even a stupid idea.
So keep me in check. No extra silliness needed. Not right now anyhow.
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2 comments:
36, it's the new 15!
When I was a kid, mebbe 7 or so, my parents took me to see '2001, A Space Odessy'. Couple days later I asked my dad how old I'd be in 2001. "34," he said.
"Wow," I thought. "That's old. That's going to be the year I really have to buckle down and get to work."
That thought stayed with me right up to 2001, no lie, at which point I was like.... "Gee, that was stupid. Think I'll have another beer and listen to some music."
Hey, did you decide yet where you're gonna go for your birthday? I'm voting for Rome; I wanna vicariously ride around on a Vespa and see pretty things. But you should also know that you're welcome to come here if you want. Southern California is probably pretty in April because, duh, it's always pretty here. And I turn in the dissertation April 13 so I'll be free, or as free as someone with a two-year-old ever is.
-the other one
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