Birthday Panic Attack
In about five days I am reaching a dreaded milestone. I’m going to turn 30. The late Aaliyah once said, “Age ain’t nothing but a number.” However, I don’t freakin’ like this number. If you factor in my maturity level and complete lack of anything remotely adult about my lifestyle, I am currently 22. But that calendar those fucking ancient Egyptians concocted says otherwise. (Note: I know the origin of the calendar is up for debate, but based on a recent History channel session I’m Team Egyptian). It seems like just yesterday I was devouring fine literature known as The Saddle Club and soon I’ll be devouring the literary phenomenen known as the plastic surgery brochure.
I wonder if it’s too late to make one of those cheese-ball 30 under 30 lists? Shit I can write the next great American novel, publish an article in a prestigious publication, run a marathon, go to India for a spiritual yogi adventure, get a few tattoos, pose in Playboy, save thousands of mini horses, get my bank account into the triple digits, do some out of hand weird role playing, take a trip to several non-Eastern European European nations, chug a bottle of Absinthe, meet Jonathan Lethem, and enjoy 15-minutes of fame in the next few days. Oh and ride a giraffe and touch a mountain. I’m going to be busy.
I’m not going to plummet into the world of denial and tell myself, “This is just a new chapter in my life.” And I won’t cross too many of those items off of my list, since I’m currently letting my ass (literally) heal from the latest prolotherapy torture session and trying to stay on top of my yoga and writing responsibilities. But I am going to do something spectacular. I don’t know what yet, but I’ll meditate and wait for an answer from the universe. I just hope it doesn’t involve a brush with the law.
Dear Brahman! I’m ancient. But in reality at 12:01 on April 3, I’ll only be one minute older than I was on April 2. My fear of the elderly is coming back to bite me in the buttocks. If I had a DeLorean, I’d travel back in time and do numerous things differently. But back to letting the past go and practicing mindfulness. Fingers typing, Nissan commercial making for annoying white noise, cat extremely furry, nice breeze, bus sounds, baseball back on, commercial thankfully over, leg hurting, eyes blinking, hands sticky from immense amounts of syrup. There. I feel better already.
