This is a brief entry but it doesn’t need to be more.
It doesn’t hit you until you start to see the dates. AI turns 20 next week. Independence Day is 25. Lord of the Rings hits 20 in December. Training Day hits 20 in October. The worst of all: Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back is 20 in August. The movie anniversaries hurt so much worse than anything else.
I’m 37. That’s firmly middle aged. I’m now older than my dad was when I was born. I’ve got a lot of gray in my hair. My beard is fully mixed now. The hair on my head is falling out. I’m not sure if it’ll come back. I’ve got wrinkles. I’ve got aches and pains. I’m old.
And I’m not at peace with it but not for the usual reasons. Part of it is unexpected. I’m not feeling like I’ve missed much in my life. My grand goals were to marry and have a family. My wife sleeps on the couch as Lola plays in her room and I write in the living room. I went to college, had a career even if it fell apart, rebounded. I’m doing well.
But I’m still mournful. And that’s because much is lost. I blogged on this earlier this year but it haunts me. I’ve lost much I can’t go back to. I don’t regret missed opportunities. I regret I can’t relive the joy. And there’s no solution for that.
I’m also resentful of the lies I grew up with. The future was promoted as this grand moment where I would rule and the opposite happened. I feel frustrated. And everyone feels that. The system isn’t built to be broken.
So I’m here without a good solution. I worry I’ll be bald soon. I know I’m decaying. And I hate it.