Trophy life

Today I'm 26 years old. Know what that means? It means I'm officially old.

I didn't even make it to midnight last night. I just fell asleep on my couch in my work clothes, and when I woke up this morning around 5 AM, TV flickering in the darkness, remnants of last night's pizza on the floor next to an almost empty beer bottle rolling around in circles, I sighed at a couple realizations and thought to myself, Well this is just great. Just dandy. I really will never be as cool as I was when I was 23.

The last couple of years have been okay, though. Most people can't tell that I'm neurotic, although comments will be thrown at me every time I leave a conversation to wipe down the kitchen counter with an all purpose cleaner during the commercial break of a football game (half of the time it's not even my house). Also, a week ago I caught myself going on a rant at work about how people need to put two spaces after a period and one space after an ellipsis. That was kind of weird. But other than that, I'm not so bad. I'm still good ol' Pete, and I still have more fun than most people.

But of course, there are concerns about my future. I just got a promotion at work. I still haven't lost sight of my dream to become a published writer, but there are just so many forces to go up against, like my real career.

At Phil's wedding a few weeks ago, there was this old guy named Mike, 70-something years old, he's either Phil's uncle or Phil's mom's uncle, I can't remember. What a character. Very sanguine and pleasant to talk to, he's the guy that always leads the family in prayer, that always goes up to the front of the room to make a toast. There's a "Mike" in every family I think. I've always wanted to grow up to be that kind of old man. I have this vision of myself just being known to everyone as Uncle Pete, the guy with a million stories and a Cosby sweater. In this vision, I'd tour the country and get into wacky adventures and then return home to use all that material for my next novel. I'd have so much to talk about during dinner. I think that would be an awesome life to have.

Will it happen? Who knows, seeing as how I've got such a good thing going on with work. Damn my left brain. Instead of becoming a cool writer, I could easily spiral into the monotony of risk assessment, crunching numbers all my life while my ass gets tighter. My sister thinks I'm destined to become not Uncle Pete, but one of those uptight fathers who busts out strict itineraries during family vacations, and that just scares me.

Really, more than anything else, I am terrified about becoming a boring person, about living a nondescript life.

You know how at the gym when you get on the treadmill at first, and it starts accelerating, there's always that brief in-between moment where the treadmill is going a little too fast for you to keep walking, but a little too slow to break out into a full sprint, so you're kind of stuck in an awkward half walk, half jog for a few seconds? This is what turning 26 feels like for me. Everything before today seems so easy in hindsight. Everything in the future seems so daunting. Right now, I'm stuck in the middle, simultaneously running in slow motion and walking as fast as I can.

And -- crap, I've just waxed philosophically about the direction of my life for eight paragraphs. That definitely wouldn't have happened if I were 23.

Whatever. Happy birthday to me.