I was going to write a blog about my weekend, but after having a read through another blog I found this week ("Life, through my eyes") I realised, that like the author of that blog, I too will shortly be a year older.
Sound like an achievement? Well, it's not really, is it? All I've managed to do is not die for 25 years, and the first 25 years of your life are the easiest 25 to survive one would assume.
Twenty five feels like an eternity away. I still see myself as early twenties but now there's no denying, I'm mid twenties and heading rapidly towards late twenties. And then... dare I say.. thirties. But in one short week, 25 becomes a reality.
So I take this opportunity now, to look back at my life and see at various stages throughout where I thought I would be come this milestone.
At age five, I'm not sure where I thought I'd be. I imagine it changed from week to week, from one impossible dream to the next. One week a movie star, the next an astronaut, the next a caterpillar. Needless to say, I have accomplished none of those things.
Age ten, I think I would have dreamed of being a professional sports person of some sort. I played junior sport all year around, and I thought if I stuck with it one day I would make it. I would have thought twenty five is incredibly old, and by that age one should be married and have a few children. Again, I have accomplished none of these things (and, none of them are anywhere on the horizon.)
Fifteen now and starting to learn the harsh realities of life. I was dropping out of sports teams left and right as I realised I was not athletically gifted, and I would be relying on my brain from here on out. I would have seen myself working in an office at a big city firm, not really being sure what people in those offices do, but again thinking by 25 I would probably be married and have children.
At twenty I would have thought by 25 I would almost be finished my CPA, again probably working in a big city building, however by this age I realised marriage and kids, probably not for me.
And here I sit, a week short of 25. Living alone. Single. Almost finished my CPA but working in a small country firm. Achieving very little of what I thought I could accomplish during my early years, because as I'm sure we're all aware, life has a way of crushing our dreams.
But as I sit here now, I ask myself if I'm happy with where I am. And do you know what? I really am. I wouldn't trade my job now for any of that big city money. I don't think I could deal with coming home every night to a wife and children (or even a flatmate and a cat for that matter). And I know I couldn't deal with the fame and publicity that comes with being a professional athlete in this country.
So whilst I don't think I will achieve any more of my goals by the time I reach twenty five, I don't really want to either.
"Well, I mean birthdays are merely symbolic of how another year's gone by and how little we've grown. No matter how desperate we are that someday a better self will emerge, with each flicker of the candles on the cake we know it's not to be. That for the rest of our sad, wretched, pathetic lives, this is who we are to the bitter end. Inevitably, irrevocably. Happy birthday? No such thing." - Jerry Seinfeld
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