27, 28, 29...

2 years have passed since my golden birthday 7-7-7. In less than a year now, the feared milestone of another decade will find me, ready or not. Who do I need to be now, to become the man I want to be then? I'm only moderately good at predicting the future, so I'll reflect on the past.

I forget the day of the week lately. Looking around my apartment though, memories pour hazily or crisply from each object tucked or displayed. The little wooden elephant gift from west africa blended into the table purchased 70% off because of a scratch. The rubber boots that still fit from childhood beneath the paintings of abstracted male hip, inner arm and neck, the trio a cry back to the child I was.

My 25 year plan was clear at age 12. It was free of distractions, surprise or joy. It took the life I led and improved it. Improvement was key, because I was convinced "more" was all it took to stop misery. More food, more money, more dreaming, more house... more. I bucked this suburban, straight version of the dream aside. But the theory of more persists, now encumbered by factors, the unexpected and happiness. It's hard to maintain happiness in any circumstances, but especially if there is real or perceived threats. I spent so much of my life with real threats (impending suicide should I be gay), that now as I sit with perceived threats (no money, no job) its hard to shake the thought that "more" would be helpful. There are so many factors to think about in a day, distraction is easy. After years of careful experience and instinct as a planner, the unexpected is around any and all corners. And after much heartache, joy, defeat, loss and pain, I am happy.

30 is a unique birthday for most; young enough to celebrate, old enough to mourn. How was the first half of your cognitive life? Was it fun enough? Did you make enough money, enough conquests, enough travel, enough celebrations, enough connections.... to last a lifetime? Did you achieve "more"? At 29, I sometimes feel like I have alot to fit in, mostly on the money side of it. I've been an intellectual, a fratboy, a christian, an environmentalist, a party boy, a traveler, an international, a lover, a victim, a bi-polar, a searcher, a lazy, a gym boy, a self starter, a dreamer.

I have a year to fill in any gaps, decide who I'll be going forward into infinity and identify with anyone I talk to about how great the 20's were and didn't you do "this" or "that" and "weren't those the days".

I might fail.

I might just not please everyone, there will be moments I'll look the snob, the nerd, the jerk, the softy, the shy guy, the loud mouth, the lush, the prude, the enthusiast, the irrelevent, the saint, maybe even the sinner.

Sratch that I will fail (some), but I will not fail (me).

I will succeed in become more the man I dreamed of 17 years ago. Not the one I wrote about and talked about (by this time I'd have been married 7 years with 2 children in a 5,700 sq ft house, a chiropractor at my dads office.... scary that it would have been logistically easy). Instead I'm becoming a man, knocked up and broken, but a man. I want to respect the man I am, to want to spend time with him. I want to rely on him, to laugh with him and cry on his shoulder. I want to find him strong and honest, vulnerable and clever. I want to meet him at 30 and observe that whether he has a 25 year, 5 year, 2 day plan... he knows joy.