Jericho: 32 Yesterday
My birthday was yesterday. I turned the ripe age of 32.
Don't worry if you didn't wish me a happy birthday. It's cool. I didn't say anything to anyone. We're all busy these days and this was just not that big a deal. No sweat. No need to do it now. Say it next year.
One of the things I enjoyed about this birthday was that it was so simple. A few people said happy birthday, my mom called and we talked for two hours, my in-laws are sending a card, most likely loaded with loot and Steph made a fuss. But, other than that, it was just, well, easy. It was another day, a day that ended with a great dinner and a pile of cool DVDs from Steph, but just another day.
I'm not even depressed or angry about it. I've fought getting old for so long - too long. Now that thirty is a vanishing memory, it almost feels good to let it go. Ease back, taper off, let the senility settle in and enjoy the freefall into non-existence. Really, I'm not even being sarcastic.
I mean, I've fought the fight. The fight is over and I have lost. My spirit is broken, I surrender and surrender feels pretty good.
I will die. Immortality will not be achieved by medical science before my time comes. I have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning. My chances of dying from cancer in the next two decades are exponentially higher. I will never leave this planet. NASA, the leaders in space exploration, are still talking robotic missions to Mars in the next two decades, a manned mission is a hypothetical pursuit and civilians visiting there is a laughable footnote more than five decades out. I have a better chance of winning Power Ball than stepping foot on Mars. The next three or so decades of my life will be spent in jobs I hate, barely making enough to keep my credit cards maxed but the monthly bill paid. I will retire early, at about age sixty. Between Steph and I we will have saved about $150,000, which equates to about $75,000 in the year 2030. Obviously we will be broke within five years.
There's nothing I can do, so, I am planning to just enjoy the ride. Who cares? What does it matter? I have a loving wife, a home I can call my own, even though the bank will own it until 2033, a good job at a fair wage, cable teevee and my computers. I'm just going to lay back and enjoy what I have earned - the rest of you can go to hell in a hand-basket. You are going there anyway. There is nothing you can do, either.
I feel SO MUCH better!
Don't worry if you didn't wish me a happy birthday. It's cool. I didn't say anything to anyone. We're all busy these days and this was just not that big a deal. No sweat. No need to do it now. Say it next year.
One of the things I enjoyed about this birthday was that it was so simple. A few people said happy birthday, my mom called and we talked for two hours, my in-laws are sending a card, most likely loaded with loot and Steph made a fuss. But, other than that, it was just, well, easy. It was another day, a day that ended with a great dinner and a pile of cool DVDs from Steph, but just another day.
I'm not even depressed or angry about it. I've fought getting old for so long - too long. Now that thirty is a vanishing memory, it almost feels good to let it go. Ease back, taper off, let the senility settle in and enjoy the freefall into non-existence. Really, I'm not even being sarcastic.
I mean, I've fought the fight. The fight is over and I have lost. My spirit is broken, I surrender and surrender feels pretty good.
I will die. Immortality will not be achieved by medical science before my time comes. I have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning. My chances of dying from cancer in the next two decades are exponentially higher. I will never leave this planet. NASA, the leaders in space exploration, are still talking robotic missions to Mars in the next two decades, a manned mission is a hypothetical pursuit and civilians visiting there is a laughable footnote more than five decades out. I have a better chance of winning Power Ball than stepping foot on Mars. The next three or so decades of my life will be spent in jobs I hate, barely making enough to keep my credit cards maxed but the monthly bill paid. I will retire early, at about age sixty. Between Steph and I we will have saved about $150,000, which equates to about $75,000 in the year 2030. Obviously we will be broke within five years.
There's nothing I can do, so, I am planning to just enjoy the ride. Who cares? What does it matter? I have a loving wife, a home I can call my own, even though the bank will own it until 2033, a good job at a fair wage, cable teevee and my computers. I'm just going to lay back and enjoy what I have earned - the rest of you can go to hell in a hand-basket. You are going there anyway. There is nothing you can do, either.
I feel SO MUCH better!
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/07/2003 01:25:00 PM
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