i must above all things love myself

It’s well-documented that I’m no great fan of birthdays, but the sort of ironic thing was that my objection was never really about getting or feeling older.  At least not until recently.  And then this year happened.  I don’t know why turning thirty-seven had such an effect on me when the more traditional milestone birthdays didn’t.  Perhaps it’s my contrarian nature.  Or the fact that I officially entered the ass end of my thirties.  Or that I was severely depressed through much of the winter, spring, and summer.  It’s possible it’s a combination of the three – or at the very least, most likely we’ll never know.

At any rate, I’ve spent the early weeks of Rocktober thinking about aging again – as I have for the past decade.  I’m now as close to thirty-eight as am to thirty-seven, but this year I have been trying to think differently.  I know that the glass is also half-full.  So that’s why it doesn’t bum me out that Nick Cave is cooler than me by a mile.  Yes, he’s fifteen years my senior, but he’s still getting better with age.  This is what I have to look forward to.  And that’s a good thing.  It’s going to take me that long to grow out that tremendous mustache.

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