September 12, 2006

So I’m Turning Thirty

I'm turning thirty on Monday. It's very depressing.

Now people have said a lot of things to make me feel better, but they've all been lies.

For instance, someone told me the thirties are the new twenties. How's that make any sense? That's like saying the letter A is the new letter B, or that all the even numbers in the universe are the new prime numbers. It's illogical.

Here's another one. “Your thirties are better than your twenties.” Every birthday people are saying this to me. Six was supposed to be better than seven, twenty-five was supposed to be better than twenty-four. Do people tell this lie to ninety-year-olds? "Yep, those nineties, great time, prime of your life."

I told someone at work that I was depressed about turning thirty, and she said, "But look at all you've accomplished." And what have I accomplished? A worthless B.A. in Philosophy. Three half-completed Master's Degrees. A job that requires me to call people “sir” and “ma’am.” No great adventures. No homosexual has ever hit on me. (I have a huge complex about this. My buddies are always complaining that gay men are hitting on them. Why’s this never happen to me? Am I not attractive enough? What is it?)

The same coworker also told me that I should be excited because my thirties are here, and the thirties, oh those thirties, they’re such a fun time. Now how does she figure that? Hmm, the white hair is coming in, my knees aren't what they used to be, and I'm closer to death, disease, the loss of control over my bladder, etc., etc.

"But you're entering a new phase in your life," she then said, "a new adventure, your thirties!" Yes, I'm entering a new phase in my life; I can't deny that. But what's so great about that? Just because I'm entering something new doesn't make it good. Once when I was little I accidentally entered my parents' room when my mom was undressing! And let me tell you about that...

Life is a journey, no doubt about that. You start out in Scranton—not a bad place, though the sites do get old after a while. Then your teens come along. This is like L.A.—a lot of rioting and turmoil, but at least you get Disney Land. The twenties are great. They're like Orlando. Or if you're lucky, Hawaii. Then the thirties. Not horrible, but definitely a step down from Hawaii. I have a feeling my thirties will be a bit like Houston—not Hell, definitely not Hell, but all those frickin' mosquitoes. Sadly, I think I’ll be stuck in Texas for the rest of my life. From Houston, I’ll probably end up in some little Podunk town whose main form of recreation is getting together and watching The 700 Club. And so on.

Originally published at The Cynic Online Magazine.

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