At the beginning of my 36th year on this planet
With the advent of my 36th birthday earlier this week, I have been wondering how much I have changed over the years – how I am different than I was before.
Physically, I’m starting to show my age.
My hairline is ever so slowly creeping up my forehead. I’m not about to go bald, but I am starting to look like Dracula when I get out of the shower. Various bumps and lumps are starting to appear. My skin has officially lost the elasticity it once had – even my dimples are turning into creases.
Various injuries sustained over the years make my knees sound particularly tuneful when walking up stairs – I’m guessing it’s the various tendons inside that sound similar to rope being pulled through the middle of my leg (if you can imagine that) – mostly owing to the spectacular kneecap dislocation I achieved a few years ago.
Getting drunk is no longer an option. Recovery takes far longer than it ever did before, and I’m more aware of the time I waste when feeling rough.
On the good side, I am perhaps fitter and stronger than I have ever been. My eyes are still above 20/20, but I am still colour blind.
Mentally, I grow far more cynical and disenfranchised each year. At 21 I was full of crackpot ideas, theories, thoughts, and opinions. I’m slowly turning into my father-in-law, who will often remark “it’ll never fly” when witnessing my attempts at building furniture.
When I was 21, I read books about all manner of wacky subjects – life on other planets, neuroscience, particle physics. When you do find me with a book now, it will invariably be a novel by William Gibson, or Douglas Coupland.
The most unexpected aspect of getting older is that I find it far easier to talk to people – especially women. I’m not sure if it’s a case of “don’t care any more”, or just that I have been places, done things, and seen a lot of stuff now. I am confident in who I am. Most of my close friends – both real world and internet – are female. When I was younger I was painfully shy and self critical.
In some ways I miss the optimistic dreamer that I once was – but I also value the experiences, knowledge, wisdom, and people I now know (and in many cases love to bits).
How do you think you have changed since you were young?
Honestly! You sound as though you’re writing yourself off! I’m nigh on 10 years older than you and revel in staying out dancing all night, over indulging and don’t ever complain at my slightly sagging disposition come morning.
chin up young man… you’re not yet in your prime :o)
Nice post. I totally understand. Even if I’m Karen’s age, ie quite older than you. But this “coup de vieux” as we say in french can surprise you at any age. My theory is this: our brain thinks in terms of a certain age and gets stuck there for years. Until something happens such as a creeping hairline obviously showing one morning. So there, in a matter of minutes, you jump 3, 5 or 10 years ahead. It’s a shock. And in your case, the children and the freelance thing… it gets to you. Anyway, I hope I make sense (english is not my native language).
Keep blogging, I’ll keep reading. Take care.
hm…the physical bits of getting older are inevitable (unless you throw *tonnes* of cash at it, and my hair dresser does charge for covering those greys) and I’m definitely narrowing my focus on what I am willing to spend time on – there’s just too much out there to still sanely pay attention to everything! – but I like to think that any changes in the past 15-20 years have been in the name of progress.
happy belated birthday!!