As I sit typing this, there’s a black arrow pointing at my head that says “Under This Arrow is Over the Hill”. I’m not talking metaphorically, there really is an arrow fastened to the ceiling. I will explain later.
Yep, I’m another year older today. Yay! Much better than the alternative. Anyhow, the only reason I mention this is because it’s a “milestone” birthday. So, how old am I? 70, 80, 90? Or, judging by my sense of humor, you are probably guessing lower, 10, 16? No, today I turn a whopping 30 years old.
You may be wondering how I feel now that I’m officially at an age where college students shake their heads at you wondering why the old man is at the bar rather than at home watching Matlock re-runs while telling those kids to get off his dam lawn. A lot of people have told me how rough it was to turn 30, and how depressed they got. Honestly, it feels the same as any other day. I guess with the baby and everything I really don’t have time to sit around and think about things and get depressed. Age is just a number after all, and I think what really matters is how you feel, and I still feel pretty good. Have I accomplished everything I thought I would by age 30? I don’t know, I really don’t think that far ahead.
Today at work they have a ton of pictures of me up from throughout my life. My wife and my parents were involved, those sneaky people. That was the only part I was a little nervous about. There are some pretty funny pictures up (several of my Halloween costumes, my semi-mullet), some embarrassing ones (9th grade dance anyone?), and some I would like to keep (my late Grandmother and I from a long time ago). They also put up the black arrow and about ten thousand little “30s” all over my desk. My mouse was even taped to the desk!
Well, I hope you all have a nice day. It you hear any creaking or snapping, don’t worry, that’s just my old man joints grinding into oblivion.
The Struggling Writer 
