Wednesday, 15 December 2010

So here it is. The big 2-6. Not the most monumental of ages I grant you, but another year has passed, as much as I'd be tempted to deny it. For a start, I'm no longer in my early 20s. I think I can still claim MID-20s though, right?

Maybe late-20s would be more accurate. Either way, my first week as a member of whatever this age group is has coincided with an influx of new, bright young things at my place of work. For two years I have reigned supreme, justifying my mistakes and tantrums by appealing to my inferior age. This is no longer possible. I am yesterday's news. I am on the shelf, gathering dust.

But I don't feel like I'm ready to get old, to mature. I don't feel ready to surrender my inner child. While it's true that my mum was not only married, with a mortgage, but had had me before she was 26, I refuse to believe that my record means I'm immature.

The world changes, doesn't it? Society changes. Furthermore, society changes not only itself, but our expectations of ourselves. I can't live by the standards my parents set themselves, and neither should they expect me too. I admit that I am behind many of my age group, but I won't feel bad. I won't. Each generation struggles with its own identity, its own issues and its own time. The template that was applied to the generation born 5 years before me is already out of date - am I wrong? Am I clutching a straws?

I'm currently on the train. I'm listening to a multitude of conversations between various drunk people that have never met before. A 21 year-old girl is currently telling a 34 year-old man, after a little 'guess-my-age' game that he won't ever be a good dad because he 'looks selfish'. Hearing that, I'm not sure I even want to be young anymore. But then I remind myself that age is but a number. It's the experiences that shape you, not the time that passes.

And, more importantly, I remind myself that I will be old and grey long before I grow up.

PS: I apologise for any glaring spelling or grammatical errors in this here post, I'm pissed as a fart (as below picture should prove).

PPS: I apologise for my absence from the blogosphere of late. I've been ill; the lamest of lame excuses I know - especially when I celebrate the first day of wellness with an almightly piss-up - but it's true nonetheless. I could hardly let my birthday pass without raising a glass. I will comment the crap out of you all as soon as I am a) well, b) not at work and c) SOBER.

I love you all.


  1. And I love you back!

    Oh Drunk Tom - You're sleeping I'm sure, and will probably soon wake up to face the day. I bet you won't feel any different than you did the day before...except perhaps hungover. I always have to remind myself that age doesn't work like that - one day doesn't make you wiser, just legally a year older.


  2. Hehe. Looks like Drunk Tom is drunk.
    Happy birthday, Drunk Tom! <3

  3. Just noticed that this post doesn't have a title! Drunk Tom strikes again!

  4. Do you know, I don't even remember writing this.

  5. Really? Should we hold a TASG intervention?

  6. Perhaps that would be a good idea. I'm sorry for the lack of title too. Oh dear, look at the red eyes.