Quarter Century. Silver Jubilee. Mid-life crisis?

So this is what it's like to feel 25, eh? I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Which, if I did my math right (and I do suck at math), means that 50 is it for me. Anything above that and I'm living on borrowed time. Which I don't mind borrowing, provided I'm loaded, still as hot as I am (someone's laughing in my head. Wtf? Shut up back there!) and, well, doing whatever I want to do.

Which brings me back to... Huh? What's that sign say? 'What...do...you...want...to...' Argh! How'd I get here again? No, no, I'm not doing this... besides, if I go by MissAlister's theory (which I'm sure has been well researched) I'm not supposed to know for at least another 20 years. So there!

Although the whole point of knowing is lost if my life expectancy is 50. So...

Anyhoo, enjoy this day. Have a pint on me. Cheers!

1

Just the one day left.

Here,
there,
everywhere,
it seems the world has gone away.

I'm sitting in an empty room,
inside an empty office,
inside an empty building,
inside an empty city,
inside an empty country,
inside an empty continent,
inside an empty earth,
inside an empty solar system,
inside an empty galaxy,
inside an empty universe,
inside my empty head.

And I'm not moving.

This is starting to scare me.

2

I've had this open all day. Since I came in to work in the morning(ish). There are just two days left until I turn 25. It's a scary thought. At what age are you supposed to know where you're headed? I've known people who've figured it all out earlier. I know more people today who haven't.

I will not deny you this: this way, it's more fun.

But I usually have these 'what if' moods--I guess everyone does--where I wonder how things might've turned out if I'd actually planned them. But 'planning' requires a lot more will power and concentration than I'm (ready) willing (and able) to give. More tomorrow.

For a friend.

I may not be your man,
but I'm your #1 fan.

Attempting to achieve Goal Number One

This effort to move is proving to be quite the effort. My fault for assuming this would be easy. My fault for assuming that life would cut me a break. I'm not bitter, though I know I sound the part. I'm just a little peeved I suppose. At myself. Never assume. When you assume...

Thing is, I know life handed me lemons. And I've made some lemonade. But so far, nobody's buying any. Makes me wonder if the lemons were overripe or green and I was too late, or too early. Then again, I might just suck at making lemonade.

This mystery I'm solving, this life, I keep getting clues along the way. I think my recent trip to Bangalore (Bang-galore, but not this time around) was just that I might finish reading No Country For Old Men. For a lesson in the futility of leaving the past behind. It's who I am, up until this point, up until right now. If I leave it behind, what am I left with?

Exactly.

So while I was trying, desperately, to find a job in Bangalore and leave my (very recently, quite jingoistic) city of birth behind, someGodsomepowersomeonesomething made sure I understood I'd never be able to leave my past behind. I understand. This is who I've got; this is who I'll be through to the end. Damn right.