Half a year from hell

While I would like to be all manly about it and approach my 30th birthday with a measure of self-respect and dignity, I simply can't. I am not looking forward to it.

Today is my half-birthday. Today I am 29.5 years old. That means only 183 (leap year) days until I hit 30.

Back when I was in grade school and thought about what life would be like at this age I almost certainly pictured myself with a wife, a family, a multi-million dollar a year job, a big house and a mistress. Well, all except that last one. Maybe it's because, by this age, my father had all those things. Maybe I just naturally assumed life would be the same for me.

Funny how things turn out.

So, unless things drastically change by next April, my life will not be even close to how I pictured it. Don't get me wrong, that's fine (although the high-paying job would be nice.) I haven't met anyone I would want to marry and, as it stands, life without children is juuuust fine. I just thought it odd that life can take so many twists and turns and bring you to a place you never would have thought.

Maybe I am just too caught up with the theory that age should define how you act, and maybe I am not ready to deal without the "Hey, whatever, I was in my 20s" defense. I have talked to many people about how they felt when they turned 30. Some hated it, some were fine with it.

Based on this post, I think we know how I'll take it. (That's right, drunk in the bathtub in a pool of my own vomit......classy, no?)

Let the countdown continue.