You know. I turned 40 almost 5 hours ago. I’d love to be able to write something profound. My 40 years of experience had to create some kind of grand view of life, right? Not really. Things are much the way they were when I was a “young’un.”
I still need to respect my elders, there’s just less of them.
I remember doing terribly unintelligent and sophomoric things when a large group of us got together. It still happens. The name just changed from “clique” or “gang” to “congress” and/or “congregation.”
I still shouldn’t eat cake before dinner, or at all.
I still play games, although the substance of those games has changed dramatically over the years. It started with Hungry Hippo, switched to Relationship Bingo, and is now Guess Which Body Part Hurts.
Speaking of games, I still have to give pedestrians the right of way, no matter how many points they may be worth.
That daily Flintstone vitamin I chewed on because it tasted like candy is still around. The one I take is no longer chewable and it’s accompanied by various other pills based on those hurting body parts.
My brain is still the same but reversed; My words have gotten longer and my memory shorter.
People still hurt each other for no good reason. “Slenderman” is not a reason, much less a good one. And if you don’t get the reference, imagine killing in the name of Santa to make sure he brings you the gift you want for Christmas. Although, there are certain gifts… um… nevermind.
Sticking a hairpin in an electrical socket is still bad for everyone involved. Don’t do it.
See? Nothing truly profound. Just a lot of the same stuff. Turning 40 is just like turning 30, or maybe 21. Ok, maybe not JUST like turning 21. That’s pushing it a little.