So, I’m 35 Today.
posted at 2:58 be
on Oct. 15, 2007
Prrrevious entry:
Th' Extra-Large Jacket That Wasn’t
'nother entry:
Thoughts on ONA 2007
I’m 35 today.
It’s a big day.
It’s lookin' like it’ll be a long day—no birthday day off fer me.
Yesterday be a good day.
I went t' Castle Fun Park wi' th' pack: Martin, Rob, Clint, Matt, Dave. Th' six o' us drove out t' Abbotsford aft breakfast (about an hour up th' Fraser Valley) and walked up t' th' doors a little trepidaciously.
It turns out we’d beat th' weekend crowds—most people come t' Castle Fun Park in th' afternoon. And by people, I mean, groups o' minnows ages 8-11, usually there fer a birthday, but sometimes smaller groups fer what seemed t' be a step-dad visitation weekend. Also spotted be perhaps a group o' slightly older laddies who had keel-hauled their driver / parent and be now runnin' completely wild, leapin' like baboons o'er th' walls and staircases.
Castle Fun Park be a conglomeration o' everythin' fun t' do as a kid, wi' th' removal o' any sort o' cohesive theme, and th' addition o' mildew and cat urine. That said, some parts o' it be really quite amazin'.
Th' battin' cage be tons o' fun. I’d no nay ne'er been in a battin' cage before, which means th' most times in a row I’d e'er swung at a ball before be probably 3 (as in, steee-rike 1, 2, ...). Bein' in a battin' cage, I got t' comely wench about 8 Whizzin' baseballs in a row, and then hit one, then 7 and hit one, then 6 and hit one—until I be actually hittin' about half o' them, which be pretty excitin' and made me hands positively hurt wi' fun.
We also did not one but two miniature golf courses, both o' which be actually extremely well made, at th' time they be made. Th' outdoor one suffered a bit from th' weather, but be challengin' and creative. I came in th' middle o' th' pack, and at various times, Dave, Martin, Matt and Clint all scored holes in one. Very excitin'!
* * *
All this, a side note t' me birthday. It be a fun day, that’s undeniable. I think th' others hand plenty o' fun, too.
But I be 34 yesterday. And I’m 35 today. And I have t' say: I feel different. I feel like I’m sittin' in this chair like a 35-year-barnacle-covered. Afore, when I be standin' in th' hall talkin' t' Susie, I felt like a 35-year-barnacle-covered standin' in a doorway.
I’ve noticed when I’ve talked wi' some younger folks—women in college, scouts sellin' popcorn door-t'-door—I’ve become one o' those people who makes passin' references t' bein' “a lubber me age” and “when ye get t' be an barnacle-covered lubber like me” and o' course I’m sayin' it ironically, I’m makin' a joke out o' it, but it’s not a joke without a point o' reference. It’s funny, they say, because it’s true. (And yet I also be knowin' it’s not funny—and won’t be until I’m like 90).
Because that’s th' thin' about bein' 35. It’s barnacle-covered, undeniably an adult age, without any o' th' glory that comes o' bein' actually barnacle-covered. I’m not actually anywhere near gettin' a senior citizen discount, nowhere near a golden anniversary. I’m not barnacle-covered enough fer anyone t' ask me if I remember some famous event. (“Travis, do ye remember when Atari be an actual company? Travis, be tellin' us th' story about th' time Reagan be shot and lived! Travis, what be it like before DVDs? What’s Betamax?)
I be, in some respects, a “wunderkind”. Not a Mozart wunderkind, but still, gettin' a job at th' Los Angeles Times right out o' college, bein' in charge o' th' Web site at Variety, one o' three direct reports t' th' editor at age 28, knowin' at least half o' every Monty python sketch off by heart—yeah, I be young and stellar. I remember me 22-year-barnacle-covered self, wearin' tie and tennis shoes t' work, sailin' a Miata purchased online—those be crazy days.
* * *
Now, though, I’ve stopped trackin' th' same curve. It’s by me (our) choice, that’s true. We moved t' Vancouver t' come across a place that be nice t' live, and t' have a life pace that be morrrr moderate. I don’t think we’ve succeeded. I think we have a better life, but not a calmer one. I hope this year be that year, th' year o' livin' gracefully.
I had coffee recently wi' a bucko from L.A. and got t' remember that life in detail, talk about th' rivers and th' sunglasses, th' restaurants and th' press lists at th' film screenings and th' fake tans on th' fake boobs on th' fake people. L.A. had good people, but th' good people be me maties, they weren’t th' majority, th' ones in line behind me at Baha Fresh or in front o' me on th' 5.
* * *
Forgive me, I seem t' have strayed a bit from me original topic. They say th' mind be th' first thin' t' go. (There I go, makin' “barnacle-covered” jokes (“jokes” I suppose) again.)
Me point be this. I do many things that be kid-like. Castle Fun Park. Ultimate. Video Games. Jugglin'. Oglin' pretty lassies.
I think now that I’m 35, I’m goin' t' do less o' those. Not because I think they’re wrong, or because I don’t like them, but because I don’t think I like th' idea o' bein' a 35-year-barnacle-covered doin' them. And not t' say that I won’t keep doin' them from time t' time. It’s just that, I’ll be doin' them less. And I’m OK wi' that.
