A Pirate Looks at Thirty...

Yeah, I know Jimmy Buffett did the song, A Pirate Looks at Forty. I also know my crude revision of it to suit my needs would do no justice to the real song. However, this is one of those times when I feel a modicum of introspection is needed.

Anyways, today I’m thirty years old. The big 3-0. I’ve had younger people look at me today and laugh at my misfortune. I’ve had older people I work with curse me under their breath, show me their middle finger, and opine on what they would give to be thirty again. I remember a friend telling me they didn’t get out of bed for two or three days when they turned thirty. I wish I could stay in bed for two or three days, but only because I haven’t had a good night of sleep for almost four years.

I remember turning twenty-one, and thinking about how my thirtieth birthday was so far away. I remember thinking about the “living” I had to do before I reached that plateau. I remember thinking about how I’d be pulling in a six-figure income, and living in a big house. I remember fantasizing about my life, and how everything seemed so organized and austere, for lack of a better word.

Now that I’m here, I wonder where all of those imaginings went! No six-figure incomes await my annual tax filing. No fast cars to drive to the store, and no palatial estate to come home to after work. There’s no clarity of thought to greet me in the mornings, and no “blank slate” in my head when sleep finally claims me at night.

Basically what I’m trying to say is this: Nothing turned out the way I thought it would.

While I have a good job, it’s a far cry from six figures. My Ford pick-up truck is on borrowed time (now that it’s paid off), and there’s always something to work on at my house. When I wake up in the morning, I have to hit the ground running. When I go to sleep at night, I’m thinking about the bills that need to be paid and the work that needs to be done in the coming days.

While I could sit and say “Why did my life turn out this way?” what good would that do? Besides, I have a family that loves me and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. My two boys are worth more than the “high life” I imagined for myself almost a decade ago.

I’m in a different place now than I thought I would be when I was younger. Do I wish I had done anything different? Maybe some of the small things could be repeated and improved upon (I never would’ve bought that crappy $400 computer from that guy who lived down from my residence hall, I know that!), but the major junctures of my life would be untouched by my older, and maybe wiser, self.

Now that I’m into my fourth decade of life, I know many new joys and challenges await me. For now, however, there’s not much to complain about (except lack of sleep), and I’m content in that knowledge.

Maybe I’ll have something to complain about when I turn forty.