Today marks the anniversary of me existing on this planet for 30 years. I didn’t really think that turning 30 was too big of a deal, but my wife seems to think differently. She’s really wanted to make this particular birthday special while also being extra sensitive to my feelings. While this may be the result of her just being an extremely caring and thoughtful spouse that understands aging affects people differently, I’ve completely misinterpreted her actions and thus believe she knows something that I do not. Maybe thirty is a big deal and if so I’m woefully unprepared. With that in mind, I’ve spent the morning obsessing over the future and planning accordingly as I’ve come to realize just how precious every moment is.
The Midlife Crisis
This has been the most difficult phase of my life to plan as I’m not really a car person and my wife probably wouldn’t appreciate me dating younger women. Additionally, I’ve already been in a couple cage fighting matches, ate two 32 ounce burgers in one sitting and participated in a number of endurance races. Now that I think about it, perhaps I went through my midlife crisis in my twenties, which is nice because I don’t have to worry about it but also a bit scary as that gives me a life expectancy of no more than 59.5 years.
I’d like for my wife and I to be able to live a comfortable life during our retirement, so it’s necessary to make sure our investment portfolio is diverse. I don’t exactly know what that means but I did watch a whole lot of Doomsday Preppers and the people on that show seemed to believe investing in the future meant stocking up on canned foods and building underground bunkers. Perhaps that’s not what the guy who manages my 401K meant when he talked about planning for the future, but he also gave me an incredibly long and boring speech about mutual funds and expected me to be excited. The doomsday preppers, on the other hand had all kinds of crazy stories about how the world was going to be thrown into chaos and that hiding in subterranean habitats was the only way to insure the survival of my loved ones. They also shoot guns and drink beer all day long. Now you tell me which investment strategy I’m going to lean towards?
My penis and testicles aren’t going to function at 120% for the rest of my life and thus I have to consider when the appropriate time to have children is. Based on my drinking habits and love of uninterrupted sleep, I may want to look into freezing some sperm. That sounds pretty expensive, however and there’s a good possibility that should we need to artificially inseminate, my seed could “accidentally” get swapped with the seed of another man, a man whose preferred end of the moral spectrum was the extreme opposite of my own. Perhaps this man isn’t a man at all, but a being of pure evil and hatred whose only motivation for donating sperm was to insure the birth of the Antichrist. That leaves the responsibility of dealing with such a being squarely on my shoulders. If this blog says anything about me, it’s that responsibility isn’t my forte. Sure, I clean the house well and manage the finances properly, but if tasked with stopping the spawn of Satan, spawn that I was indirectly responsible for, I may crumble under the pressure.
My wife thinks I would be a good politician because when I drink enough, I’m pretty good at climbing up on my soapbox and telling people how we can change the world. The problem is, I usually stumble off of aforementioned soapbox and in today’s environment of incessant political mudslinging, that may lose me votes in certain demographics. Not to mention that I’m not out of touch enough to side with one party and not financially irresponsible enough for the other. This means I’d have to run as an Independent, which equates to a guaranteed loss unless I happen to live in Montana. In the end, I’d be forced to create my own political party, which knowing me would just turn into me throwing a party. Obviously there’d be drinking at this party and as a loudmouth drunk, I’d probably alienate my financial donors. I wouldn’t care necessarily as I’m fueled by idealism but in the real world that just means I’m disconnected from reality.
Am I taking care of my body as well as I could be? No, I’m definitely not. In my defense, however I don’t want my body to look back on its life and feel regret. I don’t want it to wonder how that deep fried Twinkie would have tasted or never know just how many beers it could have ingested before succumbing to intoxication and a subsequent vomit fest. I want my body to be free, not so free that it kills me prematurely but free enough that it gets super close and gives me a cool story to tell at a later date.
I’ve had way too many Carlsberg Elephants to conclude this eloquently. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!