- Jan 10, 2009
Now that doesn't make a lick of sense!
The term "middle" doesn't mean "third out of four".
The term middle means second out of three (or, I suppose, 3rd out of 5)
As in, one on each side.
Assuming that people tend to live to around 90, then it divides neatly up into 3 parts. Most people can agree that 0-30 qualifies as young, and that 60-90 constitutes old, yet no one I've talked to about it (and most especially those approaching or just over the threshold) want to admit that 30-60 is in the middle of those, and is therefor "middle aged".
While our society today is an exception, in most places in the world and in most places in history a person would be married, have a kid or two, and most likely a stable job or even a career and a house by 30, so that measure lines up neatly with the math.
Unlike a lot of people, I don't expect to adjust my definitions as I get older. I consider it a matter of integrity.
Besides, I am already heading that way by a number of personal measures as well: I own the place I live in (granted, its only a trailer, but I did have to pay off a bank loan before I got the title), I run my own business, I've not only been married but I am already divorced, and while I used to imagine myself as a human bullet as I raced down I-880 at 105 miles per hour in the middle of the night, these days I drive the same motorcycle at 50 in order to get better gas mileage.
I don't generally do anything for my birthday, and I'm not much of a party person, but in this case I think the milestone calls for something special.
I don't really plan things in advance with any consistency; this may change by the time 364 days go by, but here is my plan for a year from yesterday (my last day of youth):
On Saturday, January 9th, 2010, there will be several separate consecutive events.
There will be go-karts and mini golf, either at Scandia or Malibu Grand Prix - (its so hard to decide! Malibu has better, more powerful cars, and a challenging curvy track you can drift on, but Scandia lets you race each other instead of just the clock).
There will be tag (and possibly freeze tag, or even monster tag) at a large playground.
There will be Full Contact Spoons and Amtgard (foam sword fighting) in the park.
And there will be dancing inside of my RV trailer.
I suppose there will also have to be meals in there somewhere.
I also expect a decent amount of drinking and yelling and general gallivanting about and carrying on.
Obviously, anyone who knows me know this will hardly spell the end of my endless string of life adventures, youthful indiscretions, and general craziness. Never-the-less, supposedly commemorating the end of it seems as good an excuse as any to coax my friends, many of whom behave as though they think they are supposed to be "mature" already, into playing and having fun and looking stupid in front of other adults.
I don't need much materially, and I am not quite intoxicated by our consumer culture. Plus, I live in a very small space, and am all out of room for more stuff. The best gift you, dear reader, can get me would be to come to at least one of my day-before-my-birthday parties (I expect my best friends to come to all of them!) Mark your calendars.
The last time I played at the giant playground in Scandia with a bunch of friends was my 18th birthday.
Perhaps I shall do this again at 59 and 364 days.
Yes, I do believe I shall.