Not Quite 30

As I write this it is one month and five days until I hit the start of my third decade. The number stands out in my head because one of my first clear memories as a thinking person is my fathers thirtieth birthday. I remember "we" (that is to say mom really) gave the old man a schwinn racing bike. He still has this bike and rides it when life and weather permits. (It's been a hard couple years for the old man since mom had her heart attack and subsequent bypass surgery he hasn't had much time to think of, or take care of, himself.) It was an extravagant expenditure for a family putting three children through Catholic schooling on the wages they made. I think that is part of the reason the bike lasted so long. It was a quality piece of machinery lovingly cared for by a man who didn't have many things to call his own.

So when the number thirty looms in my head bringing this birthday image it also reminds me that by my age my parents had three children and that biological / psychological demon screams in my ear, "SPAWN!" As a young man I wanted nothing to do with the idea of having children. One little sperm locks you into a lifetime of care and support and I hadn't had enough me time. I think the afore mentioned demon is part of my changing attitude. I'm not so sure that I want that kind of responsibility or could even handle it well. I wouldn't want to be someone who said his greatest accomplishment in life was passing on his seed. At the same time the drive starts wearing away at ones reserve and you start looking around for any available fertile female. You start seeing single mothers not with the fearful eye of extra baggage but with the idea that this one has proven herself and able bearer of children! We must quickly away ourselves to the bat cave for the insemination process.

Then there is the entire being single thing. This is probably related to the procreation demon in that one can not just materialize replicas of one's self out of the air but must needs find a willing partner. It is also part human need for socialization, understanding and connectedness. While I may rant out an array of ideas on a daily basis it lacks that one on one verbal and tactile communication that the human animal craves. As I am living in a situation where I not only do not have this but where I feel proscribed from being able to find this sort of commingling of lives, as temperamentally I am unable to approach the idea, of seeking out any sort, of relationship, when my prospects, for being an equal partner are non existent and wont be for any foreseeable future, exacerbates the emptiness felt by the lack of any such union. Notice just how confusing my language gets as I'd rather think around the idea of loneliness than confront it or admit any such weakness.

So while I don't feel like I'm suddenly going to turn "old" upon reaching my third decade there are any number of somewhat depressing things that have been creeping into my thoughts more and more as the day approaches. And when I start feeling sorry for myself I get angry with myself. Who else has had the opportunity to spend a couple of years in their twenties with no job and few responsibilities. I've had countless books to read and games to numb my mind with. I've had free access to broadband internet and a good computer to browse it with. I've actually spent months writing odd and inane rants rather than just saying I want to write. Life has been pretty damn good and to boo who over missed opportunities and what I don't have is so damn typical of my whiney self absorbed neurotic mind.

So to all of you hard working team players out there now suffering from stress, arthritis, bad diet, bad posture, back spasms, rampant anxiety, marital difficulty, erectile disfunction, teenagers, blackmail, insomnia and whatever mid life crisis plague the career absorbed: I drank, smoked, danced and generally had more fun in my twenties than most people have in their whole life time. That was my accomplishment. What did you do?

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