Progression?
Here I am, a 26 year old boy, standing, facing life.
For those of you not intimately familiar with me, you’ll not know that I have always looked at myself as a boy. Don’t like it to be called “Sir” or be refered to as “Mr van de Nes”. It’s not that I fear growing old, it’s that I’ve never considered myself as such. And it’s kinda hard being confronted with it.
It’s always been my belief that the old bit isn’t the bit to fear. Let’s face it, time is a linear thing, and you can’t really help that. It’s growing “old” that has me rattled a bit.
But, here I am, a 26 year old boy, standing, facing life.
Now, I want you to say that last sentence out loud a couple of times, alter it where it applies to you of course. No good sitting behind a computer chanting “I am a 26 year old boy” if you really have breasts. But, should that happen anyway: post your MSN here and make sure you have a webcam running.
The idea of being age X and facing life . . . . is pretty scary. So say it some more. Let the consequences sink in. Really sink in. You are X years old, most likely your parents don’t care for you anymore. You have to pay rent, earn a living, get groceries, know how to prepare groceries into something eatable, clean the place you rent, have a social life, climb social ladders, climb corporate ladders, find a lifemate, KEEP a lifemate, keep in touch with your past, look to your future, enjoy your present. I mean: DAMN. That’s some pretty scary shit right there.
It is at this point you should be taking a few breaths. I mean, look at your life. A few years ago you went to school on a daily basis because . . . you had to, your parents cooked your dinner, told you what to clean, bought the groceries, friends were there and always close, you couldn’t spell corporate ladder, you had this guy/girl you occasionally snogged with but the possibilities of Lifelong connections, babies and mortgages . . . . were just not an issue. Had you imagined then, how good you would get at all this shit. You are paying rent, you are holding down a job/you are continuing your studies, you have a social life, you can cook, your appartment is pretty clean, you have prospects, you’ve learned from your past, you can see your future and if you’ve got half a brain: You’re enjoying now. That’s pretty impressive.
So . . . are we progressing through life? For myself, I’ve always sworn that I’d be quitting puberty by the time I could reasonably enter my mid-life crisis. I may be an adult by law, but I’ll be damned if I have to grow “old” to fit in to this society. I can do all those things listed above without becoming too serious with life, without losing connection with the fun things . . . . without growing up. And so: I won’t.
That is, I would, but for my body conspiring against me. It has come to pass, that today, the 13th of August 2007, pretty damn close to my entering my 28th year on this planet, I have now shaved on the new schedule of once every second day. DAMNIT. Next thing you know I’ll be growing hair on my back. And losing hair on my head. Eeeeeuwww.
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Quote of the day:
Pull yourself together man; You’re a Necromancer
Don’t think of it as dying, think of it as a learning experience.
There is, obviously a far worse prospect: Keeping clean your appartement, going to college, taking the exams, failing the exams, taking them again etc etc, is a pretty secure way of not progressing at all. Sure being a student and taking care of yourself is a pretty big leap from living with your parents and being cared for, but let’s face it: all major decisions are based on a path the university lays down before you. ..
The scary thing is still to come, and I can hear it moving pretty damn close. Sometimes I imagine I see dim red eyes from under my bed (and some pretty big things can hide under my bede, I’m sure I could fit a cow under there, if I ever felt inclined to grow my own (mince-) meat). Softly you hear it whispering: “You’ re all set, you are ready to go, one inch away from the edge… You can do absolutely anything you want, and it’s up to you to make it work. Freedom can be an annoyingly scary thing.
Obviously I’m talking about finishing you education. Lookin gfor a job. Thinking about looking for a job. Wally, you’re one lucky fellow to be able to gallivant off to Japan, doing something mildly interesting while making all kinds of new friends, finding those young innocent kung fu chicks and getting huge sums of solid cash to do it.
Me? I’m gonna find a JOB. Yeah, thats right. A Job. Because I want to. OKay, because I need money. Well, allright, because my girlfriend wants me to. Yes my parents brought it up as well. But I already enjoy thinking about it, as long as people convince me I should being doing it.
I work in mysterious ways..
I’ll keep you informed as I go…..
quote: The scary thing is still to come, and I can hear it moving pretty damn close.
Dude, you live in a retired community. Those noises you hear are the soon to be departed living all around you. I may not fear being old . .. But I’m not keen on being THAT old.
But . . . a job . . . . sjors working 9-5
Now that IS a scary thing
Yeeh, fixed the whole
“not staying in Column” problem
App, some browsers automaticly put the pictures in the columns I put em in and resize the pictures. Older ones however take the full size picture. This does not fit in the column so the browser starts the left hand one (which is later in the source code) below the right hand one to avoid the two overlapping
“here I am, a 26 year old boy, standing, facing life”. Hey, watch out, the last time I had that kind of thoughts (apart from the 26 y.o. boy part) I turned my life around and became a vegetarian. Luckily the lack of fish killed my brain and I stopped thinking before further crazy decisions could be taken
I don’t think any amount of spiritual revelations will get me to stop eating meat. Vegetables, yes. But meat? No.
Just . . . no.
But, this being a free country you were free to make that decision.
I mean people have gone celibate after revelations for centuries . . . who am I to judge
I read the first line and thought; ” oh my god he IS getting old, he’s becoming serious.”
Thanx for proving me wrong in a few more lines. The whole office was laughing because of your blog…
Yes I’m working 8.30 – 5 and yes my whole office now knows you have to shave every two days. Now who’s getting old…….
Working 8:30 – 5, arranging a mortgage
vs
Going to japan for a year of undiluted fun and having to shave once every two days
Tough one . . .