Tuesday, 7 April 2009

It isn't what you hoped for, is it.

I turn 30 next week. Gulp. I'm not really sure if that's a milestone, or whether it's just a yardstick. Maybe I mean watershed.., or benchmark..? Or is 30 a "waterstick"...?

(Erm, a "shedbench" maybe?)

Whatever you call it, 30's definately a time to reflect -a place to stand drunkenly on the first-floor landing of life and put two fingers up at your graduation photo (by now hanging there next to a photo of a dead grandparent). It's a place to wobble between everything you were, and everything you might be, because -lo!- the Landing of Life maybe built upon dreams, but it is lit with bitter failure, and carpeted with non-stick, stain resistant regrets...

If only I had/hadn't kissed that girl.
If only I had/hadn't taken that job.
If only I had/hadn't finished that musical about dinosaurs.

But wait! Hope is n't completely spazzed yet, you know. He can still get up those stairs un-aided for fucksake. Just think of all the great thing's you've acheived so far:

For one, you don't live with your parents anymore.
Two: You have a sophisticated, and plausible hairstyle.
Three: You don't have a childish, newsgroup sounding knickname like "Johncat".
And four: Your girlfriend doesn't have a removeable tongue...

So the next time you're turning 30, don't be so hard on yourself. You might not be a rockstar, or a self-made millionaire. But at least you're not fucking a giant Chinese corpse-puppet in front of your mum.

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