I’m really 33 years old now?
I know it’s been a week since my birthday, but I still don’t even know what to make of it. Is it no big deal? Is it “Wow”? Is it scary? For many years, I’d traditionally go take a walk around 1am, think about my life. It was my big tradition to think my life through. A few years ago, I stopped doing it, and I don’t quite remember why. I think I just got too busy.
So I’m 33. That’s the official age of “30-something”, isn’t it? It feels like just a number to me, much like turning 31 and 32. Is every year older you turn in your 30’s supposed to bother you? It’s not bothering me. I’m actually pretty nonchalant about the whole thing.
Life is good. I’ve got a loving wife, two great kids, a home of our own, a helpful extended family, friends to hang out with, and jobs to support our extravagant jet-setting lifestyle. 🙂
All joking aside, I have a lot to be thankful for. Of course, being a Taurus, there are a million material possessions that I lust after, like the big TV, fixing up the backyard, painting the house, fancy cars, lavish trips to Guam. You know what though?
There’s all the career stuff that my ambitious side yearns for. I’ve always been pretty ambitious, but the sheer effort of raising two kids has taken a lot of the energy out of me. The only reason I’m alive is the awesome teamwork my wife and I have between us. And by teamwork, I mean she does all the heavy lifting, and I do whatever she directs me to do. I want to get back to achieving my certifications, giving 110% at the office, and go back to climbing the ladder.
That stuff will come in time, and I have to fight my natural urges to try to get it all now. Maybe each year you turn older isn’t supposed to be this momentous “What is up with my life?” occasion. I should be happy with every day that I get to spend with my family and friends, doing new things, learning new stuff, and helping others.