Steamroller

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

The Final Countdown

It is 255 days until my 40th birthday.

Which is a mere 368,250 minutes.

I know this because I downloaded a “Final countdown” app.  (Which, I have to say; the word “final” sort of freaked me out a little.  Need it be so…you know…final?)  Anyway, contrary to the looming coundown, I really don’t have much of an issue with aging.  I mean, when I look back on my 20’s, I hang my head a little and think:  Oh thank GOD I've evolved since then.  And, when I look at my 30’s, I see so much growth that I get a little excited to see what further growth and challenges my 40’s have in store.  So, really, aging is no big thing to me.

Or so I thought.

And, then Samantha and I teamed up, deciding to rock the last year of our 30’s and prepare to explode into our 40’s. 

Great!

We decide to blog the journey.

Wonderful!

Samantha asks me to design a blog page for us. 

Sure!

And, then I did so.  And, well, look around at the results. 

Does it not seem the slightest bit…bleak?

I mean, I could have chosen background/images of fireworks, for example.  Fireworks would have been a lovely image to allude to our anticipated explosion into our 40’s.  Or, really, anything remotely celebratory seems as if it might have been in order for a woman who proclaims she has no issue with aging and is looking forward with pleasured anticipation to her 40's (me, not Samantha, she’s far more self-aware and knows damn well she’s not loving aging and plans to fight it every step of the way—stay tuned, it’ll be interesting to watch). 

But, no.  I choose a bleak, white landscape, and an image of a freaking steam roller.  Sure, Samantha suggested the steam roller but I could have found something that looked silly, tongue-in-cheek, funny, or even ironic.  But, no…I choose to arrange it like the grim effing reaper has taken to working construction (destruction?).   

This sends me to my journals to search for any entries where I might display any sort of tension with aging.  I mean, I JOKE a lot.  But, I’m not actually serious.

Right?

Then I come to an entry in early October of my 33rd year:  

“It’s this weird feeling of dread.  It’s out there.  I know that it is.  I can actually FEEL it.  Just waiting….waiting…rubbing its hands together in anticipation. 40 is like a mugger lurking in a dark alley, hungry to steal my youth.”

Tension?  Umm...yeah--more like horror movie terror.

Yep.  I wrote that.  At the ripe old age of 33.

And, now?  I’m IN that alley, my people.  I’m looking straight into the eyes of that mugger. 

And, apparently, he drives a steam roller.

God help us all.


(368,212 minutes left)

No comments:

Post a Comment