I’m 40 years old today. Its just a date on the calendar, like any other. But this particular period of life, two score years since birth, is often freighted with meaning by people. Lordy lordy, look who’s forty…mid-life…over the hill…
So what does it mean to me? Well, statistically I now have less life in front of me than behind. Its 22 years since I was eighteen. I’m old enough, theoretically, to have a four year old grandchild (although I have no children, so that’s not a worry). If I look at a 20 year old woman with lust, I am now a dirty old man. I’m long past the magical 25-35 year old male demographic, and into the suspender-wearing, Depends consuming age group that is the primary target market for hair transplants and Grecian Formula. Yep, I’m officially “old”, although I’m sure my older siblings, to say nothing of my Mom, will no doubt be laughing at this.
But, again, what does this mean to me? Not much, as it turns out. At least not yet. I’ve always been “old” for my age. And I’ve never been part of the in crowd, the “young” generation that follows every fad (you know, the one’s currently buying iPods, drinking designer martiniis and piercing their tongues). So being old is sort of what I’ve always been: well, maybe less old and more outside the “mainstream”, which is one aspect of being old. And being/thinking outside the mainstream is a good thing, I think.
So here’s to being 40, and to another few decades of being a geek.