Nothing.
No, really.
I’m coming into 50 a little worried about money, but I don’t regret for a second the choices I’ve made about my work and how it fits into my life.
I adore your kids (yours especially, you know who you are) but I have never wished that I had my own.
I suppose it would have been nice to have a less geographically dispersed family so we could be closer, but my people like where they live and the people who make up my chosen family are amazing.
I started wearing sunscreen a little late, I probably eat too much sugar, too many carbs, and drink too much coffee, but on the whole, my indulgences haven’t taken much of a toll on me and it’s not like I’d tell anyone to cut back on cake or travel. Or to bypass their own, um, recreational research.
I could have devoted myself to art in a more calculated way, betting it all on the creative in hopes of winning big, but it turns out that diverting some of that energy in to technical skills allowed me to buy a house and get out of low paying jobs, actually freeing me up to have more time for creative stuff. I didn’t let it all ride on talent, but neither did I end up one of those people who says, “I used to paint/play music/write but then I…”
I was born the same year as Eddie Vedder and Michelle Obama and Sandra Bullock and yeesh, Sarah Palin turns 50 this year.
And yeah, I can be rocking chair and shotgun you kids get off my lawn cranky at times. Sometimes I’m tired because shit, this package isn’t 25, or even 35 anymore. If sometimes I come home with my feet aching, it’s because I’ve played a live show with my band. If sometimes I spend a day in bed doing nothing, it’s because I spent the previous day on airplanes. If sometimes I seem impatient, it’s because we’ve been talking about this crap (whatever this crap is) for 15 fucking years already, get with the damned program and stop polluting the intellectual ecosystem with garbage for your own personal gain. A-hem.
I’m okay with owning all of that. Because holy hell, apparently I’m 50 years old.
I recently reread Kurt Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions. That book is really weird, but there’s an odd little subtext in it about turning 50. Vonnegut says that, “turning 50 is like crossing the peak of a roof – having ascended one side…” The implication being that it’s all downhill from here, with the possible risk of sliding off in to the yard, maybe landing on the front walk. You could break your neck doing that. I’m not in love with that metaphor. In fact, fuck that. I’m part of the MTV generation, (though Vonnegut was too), so I prefer to go with Prince’s approach. “Maybe it’s coz we’re all gonna die…” but “…let’s go crazy.”
Nobody could have predicted that this is what 50 would look like for me, and if I’d followed the advice of those who said I should plan for my unknown future, I’d be looking at a very different present. This is my 50. It’s not like I have a choice, but I’ll take it.
Though I do kind of wish someone had told me not to walk through the mall on the last day of 49, right after the kids get out of school. That shit will make you feel OLD.
Fuck, I’ll take your 50 at 30.
Seriously!
Amen. And at 40. Hell, at ANY age.
You made me laugh out loud. I NEVER go to malls for that very reason.
Welcome to my decade. It was really tough for me entering it, but once you get into the deep end of the pool, it’s a helluva lot of fun. And that sliding off the roof thing? I kinda want to do that.
Happy 50th Pam! Here’s to a more exciting and fulfilling decade.
I turned 50 in August and your post touched so many chords. Happiness surveys always find people in their 50s are more satisfied with their lives than those in their 30s and 40s, a difference usually linked to a growing acceptance (resignation?) of yourself. Reading your post, I’d say you’ve got the right attitude for happiness.
You wear it (out here on the interwebs) so well – creating, inspiring, and f*cking entertaining! Thanks for all you do, and wishing you many happy years ahead. I’ll be joining the 50 crowd in a few months too, bring it.
Sometimes I look around and think “Every choice I have ever made has brought me right here, to this point.” I have my regrets and I have to wonder what the hell possessed me some times, but the only thing I can do is keep choosing and keep seeing what happens. Life as science!
Annemarie: You are well on track what with the sweariness. Carry on.
Sharon: Seriously, it was terrifying. I usually shortcut through there on bad weather days, I don’t know WHAT possessed me. I don’t usually feel old at all, but then, I walked past the Lush store. Yeesh.
MJ: I like the deep water, I’m good with that. Falling off the roof, less so.
Rick: I think there’s a certain lack of apology — a “this is it” aspect to things. It’s partly why I posted such a singularly unimpressive photo. I could have done my hair, but it was early, and I still had shadows under my eyes, and some days, that’s what I look like. I look better on others, but it’s good to be real.
Suebob: And now, I hear Thomas Dolby screaming “SCIENCE!” So, thanks for that.
And everyone — thanks. For everything.
You make 50 look fucking awesome. See you there in a couple of years.
K.
I freaked at 40 and slid into 50. I spent the day trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the next half of my life…and ascended the next roof.
Nicely written, truly and with heart. I think even people do tell things about turning to certain age we never really listen or we do listen but then simply we just live our life the way we think is right at that time..
Wait…you’re 50????
(Processing thought…)
Happy birthday! As noted above, I’ll take your 50 over other folks’ 30s. Keep on keeping on!
Nicely written, truly and with heart.