Thoughts on 36

I turned 36 years old today. I’m fully aware that my next statement will be met with snickers and jeers by my older friends and family, but I’m going to say it anyway… I always thought of 36 – that specific number – as “old”.

I’m not even sure why, really, other than it just happened to be an arbitrary point in time during which I (at 10 years old/young) observed my dad and made a mental note of his current age, categorizing it solidly in the category of “old”. The number stuck with me, at first as some sort of distant milestone, at least throughout my teenage years.

As it has gotten closer, I’ve come to realize that was a bit silly, and have readjusted the “bar” of what “old” might really mean many times. According to the age boundaries defined in the Wikipedia entry for “Midlife crisis”, I’m not even at “midlife” yet, so that’s encouraging. Nevertheless, here I am, and for some reason that number is still strong in my mind, so I thought I might as well blog about it.

For what it’s worth, the first 36 have been pretty great, on average. That’s not to say there haven’t been tough times, but I’m so content in the place I find myself now that I can only say that I’m very thankful to be here.

Since I seem to be in a bit of a mood for philosophical reflection, I’ll try not to get carried away in verbosity, as I’m prone to do without a character limit reining me in. The short version of what’s going through my head right now is that I’m thinking about how priceless parts of life like friendship really are.

Considering that I don’t expect many people who aren’t my “friends” to be reading this, let me take the opportunity to say “thank you” for a great 36 years!

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