I am much too young to be writing a blog under this title. Aren’t I? Mere months away from the big 3-0. That point doesn’t actually bother me. It seems a milestone, but that’s merely a human contrivance based upon nice round numbers with zeros. The truth is that any day of any year is the same as any other day of any other year except for the titles and values we as people assign to them.
Point in case, people living in third world countries could care less whether it is Tuesday or Wednesday. They don’t even care if it’s January or August. Time effects them as the seasons change and the moon moves in it’s cycle. When every day isn’t marked by such auspicious responsibilities as “meeting client X at 10am on Thursday”, Time really isn’t so important.
The more activity one deems necessary to perform in a given day or time period, the more one cares about the clock. Time is important because it enables me to meet you at location X on January 13, 2007 at 3:15pm. We will both arrive at the same place at the same time (assuming we’re “responsible” people). It enables us to fit more tasks into a shorter period of time because we can schedule meetings with other people and not spend our time waiting for them to arrive.
Imagine what it must have been like for people back in the day to be expecting a visit from friends or family and not know which day they will arrive! Nearly impossible for us to conceive. Our schedules are too demanding. If you come to visit and I don’t know when you’ll arrive, I have to rearrange my life on a moment’s notice. All the other people and/or activities I’ve scheduled will be put off at the last minute because you arrived.
Having said all that, turning 30 drives me to consider my position in life, in career, in relationship, and in purpose. I am compelled to evaluate my position in regards to my goals and desires, and to make a fair and accurate judgment upon my rate of progress. Turning 30 means no more young adult. It’s family time and transition time. What was excusable for a newbie is no longer acceptable behavior. Part of maturation is knowing better.
Time becomes a little more important. When you start to measure life in decades, you realize that you might have put as many years behind you as you have in front of you. Of course, I could live another 50 years, so I’m not predicting anything just yet. But one should be aware of the possibilities. If my life were half spent, I would want to spend the second half making a difference where before I was too shy, too embarrassed, too insecure, too lazy, or too naive.
Childhood, teenage years, and 20s. Three decades. Wow. I don’t feel old, and most people will remind me that I’m not old. But there is something to be said by marking one’s life in decades and to have more than two to remember.
I suppose the question now is, what will I do from here?
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