My Wicked Ways

I love being 35 years old, mainly because it contrasts so nicely with age 23. Nothing against youth and its many life changing experiences, half of which I believe we'd be better prepared for if everyone homeschooled. Seriously, that bias will never go away.

For the first time in my life, beginning this morning, and definitely not all through last night, I feel REALLY proud to be age thirty-five. Nobody can take that away from me, although it sometimes seems a special hobby for some to try, it's impossible.

I hadn't realized until this morning in the shower, after my double Senseo which was good enough but not perfect, well, during my double Senseo, as I bring my coffees into the shower with me. It's a steam bath actually, mind your own business.

Mainly, I realized that I have so much work yet to do on myself, so many ties to examine more closely that have bound me for so long, that serve society, but not the individual OR the bigger picture. I've known this for a few months now, but believe I would have sensed it earlier had I been more honest. Had I at least tried to see.

I didn't try, and I wasn't honest, that fault lands entirely on me. I'm never going to be thirty-five again, for the rest of my dishonest life (still unconvinced whether truth even suits me), but I can count. At least I have that going for me.

For instance, double always means two, that should never confuse. And in the more sensitive liars, it's kind of wake-up-call news. Doesn't change a lick of my destiny, that's between me and God, always will be. It's my path, nobody else bears that responsibility, I'm thirty-five, done pretending I can't see.