Invader Tim

On Friday, December the Second I turn 33. And there will be fun, and mirth, and stuff like that. I address that down at the bottom in bold. You can skip the next bit and get straight to that if you like. I won’t be the least bit put out.

I guess this is the part where I should turn maudlin and reflective, but mainly, I’m just stating it as fact. More fun (and also reflective if not maudlin) facts:

I still feel young. I still feel pretty healthy most of the time. I still get acne too.

I’m not as accomplished in many respects as others my age, but often these very accomplished folk in my peer group seem direly unhappy. I’m not. I’m the opposite of unhappy, what would that be? Oh yeah. Happy. I’m not saying universally. There’s pain there, honest and true. I’m at the point where I guess I’ve let it temper me, but not let it affect me too overtly on a day to day basis. Good plan. Sometimes I overload and it fails. But still a good general way to live. And you don’t want to hear me whine…especially when you’re dealing with your own stuff.

By different benchmarks I am more successful than I deserve. Tons of friends, creative outlets all over the place, my job—though it does not pay me scads of filthy lucre just yet—satisfies me almost rapturously so. And though I have not made that bizarre transition where I cease being a person and become vaguely 50% of a couple, I do date.

Some folk think it weird (or to use the archaic term, “Queer”) that I’m still single at this age. I’m not in a relationshippy mood. I love dating and all that. I love women in general (they confuse the shit out of me, but this is only fair; I confuse them too). I just don’t want to “nest” right now. I may never.

You see these folks mercilessly strangled by their little status quo lives and want so desperately to drag everyone else in. The, living embodiment of misery loving company…well these folks say sagaciously when a feller is in his early 20s something to the affect of, “Yessireebob! One day you’ll meet the right girl and settle down. You’ll have kids and…have a boat and make yard work your life.” The prophetic certainty that unctuously slides out there mouth holes is impressive.

Then they complain about how their life sucks and they hate their spouses and do nothing but argue and never have sex, and walk on eggshells constantly…Now that I’m in my 30s, I get that speech less.

I’m still not discounting the possibility of me settling down. But that word sucks. Settle. Why settle for anything? I’ll have to find one exquisite woman (who will put up with me).

It also would be unfair to a partner with my work being like it is. “Hey, honey, I’m going to have to go do this intense video thingy and I’ll be out of contact for a few weeks…read my blog though!” That would not be a cool thing to do to one you love.

But, it’s all good. Damn, it’s crazy how good it is sometimes.

It’s also sometimes…often…quite silly.



So I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do, but I know this: it will involve a bit of the drinky-drink, and will start at Octane. If my friend Kevin has his way, it will end in a Strip joint. (Ladies are welcome to come too…every time we do one of these birthday things for somebody, as many women as men go along.)

Don’t know exactly when. But probably a little early. I have mad stamina. If you want, join. Many of you already have my cell, if not, ask for it in an email.

Bye, ribmeat.