An Experiment in Scotch

35 years ago, on a very snowy, cold day in Amar­illo, Texas, your host here at the Exper­i­ment decided to see what was hap­pen­ing on the other side of the womb. I’m not really a big cel­e­bra­tor of birth­days but 35 seems like kind of a mile­stone. In fact, accord­ing to recent stud­ies, that’s darn near close to half my expected life span. When you put it that way, it’s a lit­tle depress­ing. So let’s not focus on that part, shall we? Avoid­ance is such a won­der­ful cop­ing mechanism.

In truth, except on days fol­low­ing nights where I con­sumed more than 4.56 ounces of liquor, I rarely feel 35. Though given the one-sideness of all human expe­ri­ence, I’m not going to say that I really have any clue what 35 feels like. So maybe I do feel 35. Isn’t exis­ten­tial­ism fun? I digress. I digress a lot, must have some­thing to do with that shiny, jan­gly thing over in the corner…oh look a chicken!

Any­way, I still play pretty hard at soft­ball, I don’t notice a great deal of loss of phys­i­cal abil­ity and my mind is just as dull as ever. So 35 doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal. That said, accord­ing to all my elders, it’s com­ing. That dark, gloomy pall of age is lurk­ing just around the cor­ner, wait­ing to make me feel old. In some ways, I’ve always been old. As an only child with most adults for com­pan­ions, I grew up faster than most. So in behav­ior, a lot of times, I feel really old. So how do we go about feel­ing young? As trite as it is, I think it comes down to just think­ing young. Yup, that’s trite.

So as you can see, in this really ran­dom post that never should make it to anyone’s eyes but my own, I have no idea what it’s like to be 35 and writ­ing about it for 15 min­utes did noth­ing but scare my 2 read­ers. In the end, I say fuck self-inspection and let’s just have a good time, while being fis­cally respon­si­ble for the future by sav­ing a ded­i­cated amount each month towards retire­ment, long-term sav­ings and a dis­as­ter fund for when you’re not 35 any­more and you have to take care of your­self for the next 30 years with­out a job because you’re old and decrepit.

Maybe I’m bet­ter off just surf­ing the inter­net in the mornings.