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Getting Older


Cor, it’s been a while since I posted something. I really need to kick my ass and not lose momentum. Also, this post may touch on some previously recurring themes that pop up in this blog, but then again it is my state of mind and I did say I was using this as some kind of therapy.

So anyway, I recently turned twenty-seven. Do I feel twenty-seven? The answer is a resounding ‘no’. I still feel like a ten-year-old, only with a lot more hair and a lot less potential. I still consider things from a ‘when I grow up’ perspective. So that got me thinking, at what point does someone actually realise, and feel, that they are actually “grown up”? I always thought that at some point during my twenties, some wise old sage would approach me like a hooded Jedi and whisper into my ear that it was time (of course in reality this would be greeted with a punch to his wrinkled fizzog and a backstreet castration with my foot), and all the wisdom of the world would be bestowed onto me in a ceremony I likened to Highlander. I would have it all figured out. So far that old man hasn’t appeared, maybe because he’s with his probation officer all the time.

So what brings that feeling of assurance on? Of course, no-one has all the wisdom of the world, but some people must feel that they have themselves figured out? Is it a certain turning point in your life or does it happen gradually? Is it when you’ve achieved all your career goals? You want to be a doctor as a child, you ace your A-Levels (of course these days all you need to do is spit on your exam paper to get an A*. I jest! Congratulations to all A-Level students, now use Sociology in real life! I’m so bitter), you study medicine at university, you ace that and you become a doctor (NB: Process shortened for time purposes). So, is that it? Are you then satisfied enough to enjoy the fruit of your labour or do you want more? I hope there are people like that. Others may scoff at those who don’t dream for anything more, but if you’re constantly in pursuit of something, then the next thing, and the thing after that, when do you ever actually enjoy life?

It may not be the career, is it parenthood? Does becoming a parent, and putting a child or children in front of your own well-being bring that ‘grown up’ feeling on? Maybe if we aren’t constantly examining ourselves, we don’t worry about it as much? Am I mistaken and actually no-one ever feels grown up as such? I imagine this would be more apt for us men, god knows women are more emotionally mature than us, I make no effort to hide that!

Turning thirty is just around the corner, and I’m in the middle of a quarterlife crisis (it’s a real thing, honestly! I didn’t make it up, check it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quarterlife_crisis), which brings about many existential thoughts I guess, this being the latest in a long line of them. All I know is I don’t want to be 70, still spending most of my time playing Playstation 30.

Or do I…?

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