A Rogue Looks at Thirty
'Because time itself is like a spiral, something special happens on your birthday each year: The same energy that God invested in you at birth is present once again.' - Menachem Mendel Schneerson
Birthdays always bring a little reflection and hopefully some perspective on your life. There are certain 'milestone birthdays' that seem to inspire a little extra consideration. 15 was that for me. I got my driver's license. 18 was as well. I was 'legal', although to do what it was not immediately apparent.
21 brought me gambling, though my fascination with that lasted only as long as the money (a couple of hours at most). 25 seemed to matter. My insurance dropped (a sure sign of adulthood) and I felt older.
30 is the biggest so far. I'm in a new box on surveys. I'm no longer a 20-something. People in their 30s buy homes, join the PTA, coach little league, get fat.
To hell with that. Well, the getting fat part at least.
This morning I woke up 30 thirty years old, and 40 pounds lighter than I was at 20, 30 pounds lighter than I was at 15. I work for a man that I love, and one who appreciates me for what I do and what I can do. I have two healthy, hilarious and amazing sons. I have an ex-wife that respects and appreciates me, for what I offer as a friend and as a father. I have friends that go out of their way to put me in their daily lives, that support me in my ambitions and discourage me in my bad habits. I have a family that is near, and nearly as crazy as I am. They love me not because of who I am, or what I do or don't do. They love me because they're mine, and I am theirs. That's the way it's supposed to be. Not all families remember that, mine doesn't let you forget. I have direction in life, and desire to live. I intend to do, see, write, sing, love, laugh, teach, learn, read and enjoy during the next decade at least as much as I did in the last one.
For those of you that I've seen this week or will before it's gone, I'll give you the mushy stuff in person. For those of you strewn around the world that have meant so much to me over the last 30 years (or any portion thereof), thank you. I like who I am. More than I might have a right to most of the time, but I do. And if you and I spent even a few moments together, you're at least a piece of why I am who I am. I raise my glass to you.