Tomorrow I turn 40. I have spent most of the past few months pondering how I reached this point in my life without really noticing it. I find it impossible to reconcile the age I feel that I am (about 28) with the age I clearly am in fact. I suppose that to the untrained eye I am indeed in mid-life - kids, house, Subaru, garden, greying hair. But I just can't see myself as falling within that category. I panic about this fairly often. The ticking clock haunts me like the one swallowed by the crocodile in "Peter Pan". Well, I suppose now it's upon me I will just have to get used to it. Or maybe it's best if I don't. I figure as long as I keep listening to new music I won't get too stale.
I hope to get an iPod for my birthday, but I don't really expect to. It would be nice if someone gave me David Sedaris's "Me Talk Pretty One Day" or the DVD of Michel Gondry's music videos. Which I've never even seen. (The DVD or the videos. Except the White Stripes Lego one.) But that's not likely to happen either. I'm nursing a fairly severe headcold at present, so all celebrations are off. At least I know there'll be a cake. It's just come out of the oven.
And Melbourne has just taken Carlton to the cleaners in the AFL, so that's a nice present too.
