I'm going to try to keep blogging this time. Just a little bit every other day or so. Really.
Turning 28 makes you start to think about your life, whether you like it or not. I'm officially closer to 30 than I am to 25, which is...daunting. I'm constantly in fear of my back or knees giving out, which isn't pleasant.
It's not all bad though. For example, 27-year-old Tim would have used the word "terrifying" instead of "daunting" in the last paragraph. 28-year-old Tim is too old to be terrified by anything anymore. Or maybe 28-year-old Tim is too old to allow himself to admit he's terrified by anything anymore. Maybe it's a bit of both, or maybe one feeds the other. Who knows.
I thought I'd have a more definite picture of what I wanted to be at 28, but it's proving more difficult than I thought. 28 is such a nebulous age to me. I don't think I've ever been really close to 28-year-old people in my life, so I don't really have an image of what I think a 28-year-old should be like. Maybe they were all just newlyweds that I never talked to? Maybe that's why? I hope not. But that's probably it.
Anyway, it looks like I have to make my own goals. But that's OK, since 28-year-old Tim is up to the task. So what do I want for the next year?
I feel like there are a few definite markers that break up a man's life. You start off as a baby. You become a toddler when your burps and farts stop being funny to other people. You become a child when you can start to communicate with the big people. You become a teenager once you have learned everything there is to know about the world. You become a young adult when you can survive by yourself.
Clearly these aren't the only possible markers, but I think these are the qualities I think of for each stage of life. If I had to come up with the next marker, it would probably be this: you're an adult when you start feeling like you never have enough time for anything.
And that's what I feel these days: a constant need to use up each second of each day. I hate the fact that I need to sleep each night. I would pay all the money I have to my name if I could just have another year to work on myself or whatever. But I can't.
But you know what? I'm starting to think that's the trap. I really want to make something of myself in this world, which would have sounded really weird to even 25-year-old me. But then I remember the thorny soil, and then I am conflicted and ashamed. I remember that C.S. Lewis quote: "Prosperity knits a man to the world. He thinks he is finding his place in it, when it is finding its place in him."
So what do I want? I want to be driven. But I want to be driven for the right reasons.
Guess that's enough for tonight.