The Age of Cheese

I turned thirty years old a few weeks ago and I must say I feel pretty much the same as I did before the clock struck 12am on that day of my birth. Heck, I feel just about the same as when I was 27.  “They” lead us to believe that 30 years old is the age at which we all start that green mile stretch to our impending doom. I think “They” may have been a contingent of losers (fat, bald, White with a touch of ED) who bonded together to make people miserable. “They” even have well educated, level heading folks saying things like “Oh my God, you’re 30, what are you gonna do?” As if turning 30 is a rare and fatal disease. If you get to 30 and you feel like crap, then chances are you got talked into the toilet by “Their” standards. It seems there are certain things one must achieve before hitting 31, if this is not done, surely one ought to be and deserves to be miserable. If you listen to “Them” and still miss these achievement milestones, you will most certainly plunge into depression and look like crap by the time you are 31. This series of events will lead to the inevitable breakdown by the time you are middle age (a whopping 35!) The actual number of years a person lives is not important, I feel the content of the years are more important. I don't have a problem with telling people my age; “age is something that doesn't matter, unless you are a cheese.”

Posted on December 10, 2013 .