This is 34
I turned 34 a few weeks back. It was one of those, “Oh, shit!” days. Not because I repudiate turning older. It doesn’t bother me. It was more, “Oh, shit. I have to stop doing stuff for one hour today and celebrate me. I’m not sure if I have the time or really even care.”
The time thing is obvious. My daily schedule and to-do list would easily wear out an entire fleet of minions. I wasn’t renouncing my birthday, I just didn’t feel like I was getting older. It was just another day in the year.
Today I came across this post on Momma Be Thy Name. I admire her as a mother and immensely respect her as a blogger. I also know it was more or less an homage of the godawful movie This Is 40, but her words caused an acute brain recoiling much like how my head feels when I hear what a fox actually says. No, not this, this. Okay, both of those sounds hurt my brain.
As the years tick by, it doesn’t mean you have to actually age. Yes, maturity is a good thing. Paying your bills on time, owning a house, waking up every morning so you actually make it work on time bathed, fully dressed, and operational. Cleaning the garbage out of your car, raising healthy, thriving kids so they can go on to pay bills and show up to work on time. Those are all good things.
This blog post makes turning 34 and then 35 seem like you hit a wall and are no longer youthful– and having a cocktail will turn you into a dysfunctional drunkard, or you will react to something daring like an over excited cocker spaniel. Has our fun button turned into the White House’s red phone?
Here’s a little secret. A red phone never existed. It’s all a myth. So is aging, especially aging prematurely—like at 35. You are in complete control of how you live day to day, and old age isn’t shored in some inescapableness like Alcatraz. And just like Alcatraz the easiest way to get out is to never go there in the first place.
Don’t age. Just simply don’t do it. I’m not out to lunch on this, but if you think I am take a look at
Consider this my anti-aging campaign. Stop letting time glissade by as you sit trembling on the bench afraid to step out on the ice. Lace up those skates and do something bold even if it means failing—or peeing yourself.
And don’t let that date on your driver’s license mean anything to you. It’s just another day and it will pass by each year. When it passes, have an “Oh, shit!” moment. Not because you’re getting older, but because you didn’t even notice that another year went by.
I actually look forward to 40, and 50, and anything beyond that because as each year passed I accomplish more and have greater experiences.