OK, now I'm old

I admit it, I've gotten old on myself.

As of a few days ago I started thinking about the latest number to be attached to my psyche: thirty. Not one of those numbers that people look forward to, but also not a harbinger of woe either. It just seems that I’m in those average blah years of mediocre disgust.

I’m not really disgusted at life, I have a good family, my oldest child is now 4 and child number three will be arriving shortly. So my kids aren’t old enough to be telling me off or listening to music I disapprove of…yet. My hair isn’t turning grey or thinning, and the lines in my face are only slightly deeper now than before. So like I said, nothing to get really disgusted about, just a little disgusted. You know -- a mediocre disgust. Just prep work for the real disgust that is to come later on in life.

See, this is a way of happily looking forward, and at the same time knowing that it is all down hill from here. I see the signs already. I have already started to vocalize about music that I do not approve of. Clothing styles are popping up, and I can already mentally hear myself staying: “Not on my daughter!” In other words, I’m done for.

We can all now breathe a collective sigh of coming disgust.

Unfortunately, the number thirty also causes large pangs of reflection to occur. Reminiscing about what I’ve accomplished – or not. Professionally I’ve written a lot of code, and I’ve even written about some of it. Some of the code has been really good. Some of it gives more of those mediocre disgust feelings. But the question really lies in one area: are my good years really behind me?

Why do I worry about this? Most of the time, if you are going to do something really cool, you do it in your twenties. Newton devised calculus at 24. Einstein realized the Theory of Relativity at 26. Blasé Pascal created his digital calculator at the ripe age of 22, then two years later, proved that vacuums existed. Granted, in comparison with these people, I’m a moron happily whiling about my day in gratitude that I am not choking on my own spit. But such is life.

I guess I shouldn’t worry too much. Jesus didn’t manage to get himself killed off until he was 31. Many other inventors don’t perfect their ideas until very late in life. John Harrison didn’t figure out the Longitude problem until very late in life (he almost didn’t live long enough to prove he was right). Tomas Edison was 50 when he invented the light bulb. So I guess there is still time.

And that is really point now isn’t it. There is still time, God willing, to do something great. Some people live to long, others don't get enough, and all of that is beyond me. But in the mean time…I still have to raise my kids.