That didn’t go as planned

Well, judging by the fact that it has been 8 months since my last post here, this has gone nowhere near what i was hoping for in January. Guess thats just the way some things happen.

I’m not very good at staying at it. At least in my private life, and by that I don’t mean the one that i lead with other people - I like to think (and hope) that I’m considered trustworthy. I mean the private life that I lead with myself, the one in which you can’t really lie, because you know very well when you’re trying to bullshit yourself.

It’s very odd trying to write again.

Only now, as I’m trying to write something again I’m realising the same thing that I do every time i try this, and that is how hard it is for me to organise the chaotic flow of thoughts in my mind into a… whatever this ends up being. This little bout of trying to write again is most likely an angst ridden spurt of creativity fuelled by some weird feeling of inadequacy stemming from a motivational youtube video in which a guy thats my age is opening his third giant gym and meanwhile I’m considering to change my career at the doorstep of 30.

30.

Fucking terryfing.

One of the guys I work with today was trying to explain the behaviour of this old farmer that has frequent explosions of anger by saying,

-Ah well, you know, can’t teach an old dog new tricks-

It’s never the persons fault you know? It always seems that you can find some explanation to some dickheads behaviour just by looking at their age. Young person being shitty? Ah that’s just kids being kids. Older folk acting brainless? Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Is there a point in life in which that shield of age doesn’t apply to you? Is it in the brief moment of being a young adult? You know, the stage when you slowly realise the consequences of being forced to make life forming decisions as a teenager, when your brain is a step above overnight oats?

Anyway, ranting aside, the end of my third decade has crept up on me too fast and out of nowhere. Can’t say I’m anymore prepared for whats coming than I was 5 years ago, and to be fair I’m not that sure where the last 5 years have fucked off to either. The whole pandemic episode seems to have reset the clock by a few years and stolen a bit of progress that could have been made.

I wish I could say that I’m looking at the next decade with “hope and excitement” but thank fuck I’m not such a bubbly person. Truth is I’m scared. I feel like the moment I cross that one way bridge out of my twenties all of the excuses that I’ve used of “trying to figure out what I want to do” or “how I want to live” will not cross over with me. To be fair, they won’t even wave goodbye. The moment that bridge is crossed, those excuses, explanations, happy-go-lucky charms of youth will be ripped off, and what little was built underneath that cloak will shimmer dimly, all alone.

Then again, I might be exaggerating.

It’s only a birthday.

L.