Anyway, it seems weird. Thinking on my mortality is so alien to me. Way back yesterday when I was still only 39, I didn’t think on such matters.
Today though…I’m thinking “Damn…I may not even make it to 80, so my life is MORE than half over!”.
Also got me to thinking on my bad habits (too much drinking alcohol, smoking cancer sticks) and how I need to end them. And how I have kids, and I’ve been extrapolating out the whole “If I die when I’m 65, then they will only be X years old, and I will likely miss out on X, Y, Z in their lives and loves…”
Basically, it’s got me thinking!
Indeed this is mundane and pointless, so carry on, nothing to see here!
Thanks. Turning forty on the anniversary of the first atomic bomb being dropped on Hiroshima puts my petty ruminations on my personal mortality into perspective.
Well, I recently turned 40 (this past February) and what I can tell you is that it seemed to have tripped some sort of a relay in my head. Like a good one where I am really able to put things in their proper perspective, have a good idea of what is important and have started to achieve some measure of contentment. Also I look at the incredible amount of stuff that has happened up ‘til now and figure that if I am only half-way to the finish line I have a lot of interesting stuff just barreling towards me. Technically when you reach June the year is half over, but you are at the height of summer.
That’s a nice way of looking at it. I suppose most of my faux angst is because looking back on the first half of my life, there’s so many things I would have done differently, so my recollections are tinged with regret. Useless regret, I know, as I cannot change any of it, but it’s still there nonetheless.
Hah, agreed. Too young to die, too old to be cool, not old enough money for a Corvette to compensate for my lack of sex with my wife and just old enough to generally know better.
sigh
While my SIL created me an ultra cool cake as I am a rabid Bengals fan (which shows how misogynistic I am), I could have used a titty cake like my old man got when he turned forty. I was only allowed a brief glimpse, but I ended up snatching the red hot candies used on it to represent nipples, so I’ve got that going for me…
To paraphrase the inimitable Bill Maher: “There’s a reason that in this country we have a hair pill and a boner pill before we developed a cure for cancer! What’s the use of a corpse if we can’t get them rock-hard erections?”
But thank you for the sentiment. Now the wife and I need to discuss a possible abortion. Happy Birthday, me!
