I’ve been thir­ty for a cou­ple of days now, but as I sit here watch­ing The Return of the King & eat­ing piz­za rolls, life doesn’t seem that much dif­fer­ent now than when I was 15. It is, of course. I’ve al­ways been some­one who wants to be tak­en more se­ri­ous­ly than my age would in­di­cate. Somehow I feel that now that I’ve com­plet­ed 3 decades, some al­lot­ment of dig­ni­ty or re­spect is my due. I’m per­fect­ly aware that dig­ni­ty & re­spect are earned, not be­stowed, but there’s not much op­por­tu­ni­ty to suc­cess­ful­ly work for ei­ther when you’re in your twen­ties.

Now that I’m thir­ty, there’s noth­ing left but to be se­ri­ous and ma­ture all of the time, for the rest of my life.

2 thoughts on “Thirty

  1. They’ll call you “sir” whether you like it or not.

    …and if you’re se­ri­ous and ma­ture all of the time, they won’t mean it in the good way…

Comments are closed.