About a month ago I turned 35. This is a real age, and yes, by this I mean that all ages up until this point were quite fake. 35 is unequivocal. Recently, magazines have been fudging the timeline by positing lists like “The Brightest 37 under 37”, but I don’t think anyone is fooled. Do something even remotely noteworthy at 24 and you’re hailed as a conquering hero; do anything, anything at all, when you’re 35 and people will barely acknowledge it.
35 is an age where you’re SUPPOSED to do things, and when you turn it the first thing you need to get used to is no one ever praising you for anything short of the cure for cancer ever again.
Does this sound like whining? It isn’t. No, what you’re hearing is a kind of wisdom, only the half-assed kind you get when you think you’ve hit a milestone. But, you know, still wisdom.
THINGS THAT HAVE CHANGED SINCE I STARTED THIS BLOG
[Not counting the time I deleted all the content. And not really counting the migration.]
The first thing that’s changed is I rarely post pictures of myself, especially not outfit photos. This wasn’t a conscious decision. It was based entirely on mundane things like time and running out of clothes. But I noticed two things when I stopped posting outfit shots:
- The traffic to the blog dropped like crazy.
- I started to dress less interestingly.
I think I’ll start posting outfits again when I’m 40 and I can leverage that “Hey, I’m 40 and taking pictures of myself” shtick that’s so cool.
THINGS THAT HAVE CHANGED ABOUT ME
More grey hair, but that was expected. I’ll be fully grey around the time I’m revitalizing the outfit posts.
Friends are having babies.
I’m about to start P90x. This is the kind of thing a 20-something me would have openly scoffed. But a 35 year-old me, getting worryingly doughy and weak, is all over this crazy cult.
THINGS I THOUGHT I’D HAVE DONE BY THIS AGE THAT HAVE NOT TRANSPIRED
Write a novel.
Write a second novel.
Have a novel turned into a movie.
Be in a shape that does not embarrass me when I take my shirt off.
SAME AS ABOVE, ONLY THEY HAVE HAPPENED
Find a job that pays me to write creatively.
Learn how to bake bread.
Be in love.
Remain the type of person who never takes off his shirt in public.
It hurts the morning after I’ve engaged in physical activity of any kind.