Today is the eve of my 28th orbit around the sun. Like many spacemen my age, I shall celebrate by eating cake, drinking far too much wine, and having drunken sex with a stranger (they dont get much stranger than my beau). And, as many of us do on this annual day of celebration and debauchery, I've been thinking upon my years past, present and future, trying to decipher what I've made of my life so far and what's in store for me in the coming years before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
Most importantly, do I feel any older? Short answer, no. Long answer ...eh, no. I don't feel 28. I don't feel 38. I don't particularly feel like a teenager either. I don't really feel any age. I mean, what should I feel like at 28? Should the joints start stiffening up? Should my memory start to go? Should gravity be taking its toll on my bits and pieces? Should the sound of my biological clock ticking keep me awake at night?
After all, in two years time I'll be a third of the way through my life (although I am still toying with the whole live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse idea). I'm glad to say that none of those things has yet happened. The joints are still fairly well oiled. My memory is still in good nick (relatively; alcohol-related stupidness not taken into account here). Gravity is still my friend and my lovely lady lumps are all still where they should be. As for the biological clock, I can't think of a worse punishment for me to inflict upon the world than the creation of a mini-me.
So what does 28 feel like? Should I feel like an adult? Well, I dont. I still cringe every time one of my friend's parents insists I call them by their first name. I still die of shock every time I hear of one of my peers getting married or buying a house or dropping a sprog. I overhear couples younger than me arguing about the best fridge / washing machine / insurance policy to buy and I think "Jesus, theres something really wrong with this picture". I still can't curse in front of my parents.
Should I feel accomplished at age 28? I suppose so. Many people at this point in their lives have been in their chosen careers for a number of years, and are moving up the ladder, making a name for themselves, getting that company car and yearly bonus, etc. etc. I, on the other hand, have spent far too many years farting about, doing mildly interesting jobs, dipping in and out of university, and thus am only six months into my chosen career. I'm still not sure if its the one for me, and have no idea where it'll take me in future years.
Thing is, even though I'm relatively behind in the career stakes, I've still done quite a bit in my 28 revolutions around the sun. I've travelled. I've lived in other countries. I've got a doctorate. I've had many 'interesting' relationships and jobs. I've been married and divorced, damnit! Mind you, that was a complete headfuck - more like two kids playing at mommies and daddies than a real marriage or even relationship. And yet, part of me still feels like I'm hopelessly immature when compared to my peer group. The thought of buying a house, let alone furniture, horrifies me. The thought of settling down in a nice area, close to the good schools makes me want to reach for a tequila bottle. I don't even wear skirts and heels unless I'm making a real effort on a night out, and even then I feel like an impostor because I don't think I'm nearly adult enough to carry them off.
When I was younger, I suppose that I did think I'd be terribly sophisticated by the time I was 28. Actually, I probably thought that would happen by the time I was in my mid-twenties. I didn't really think I'd make it past 27. Many of my then heroes (Hendrix, Cobain, etc.) choked on vomit or blew their heads off aged 27 - it seemed to me that they knew something nobody else did, so why on earth would I want to live beyond that age? They probably figured that from 28 onwards, life would be consumed with mortgage repayments, washing machines and cleaning baby puke off every item of clothing. Makes sense to me...
Anyways, to cut a rambling drunken story short (drinking a fine Italian wine on a Sunday afternoon - is there anything more decadent?) I suppose my overall sentiment on this eve of my 28th birthday is that I feel somehow disassociated from the whole thing. I dont feel I am destined to run the usual gauntlet of life school, marriage, kids, death. I feel I am destined for something, if not greater, then certainly different. I look forward to finding out what that is. I have a strong sensation that by the eve of my 29th revolution, I shall find myself in quite different circumstances. Here's hoping they're hot and sunny ones, and that it's your turn to go to the bar. Mine's a glass of red.
Slainte.
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