{"id":8639,"date":"2014-01-04T08:44:56","date_gmt":"2014-01-04T16:44:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nerdseyeview.com\/blog\/?p=8639"},"modified":"2014-03-21T11:57:51","modified_gmt":"2014-03-21T18:57:51","slug":"what-i-wish-people-had-told-me-about-turning-50","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nerdseyeview.com\/blog\/2014\/01\/04\/what-i-wish-people-had-told-me-about-turning-50\/","title":{"rendered":"What I Wish People Had Told Me About Turning 50"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Well,
#$*&! I’m 50! How is that even possible?!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Nothing.<\/p>\n

No, really.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

I adore your kids (yours especially, you know who you are) but I have never wished that I had my own.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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<\/a>\/write but then I…”<\/p>\n

I was born the same year as Eddie Vedder and Michelle Obama and Sandra Bullock and yeesh, Sarah Palin turns 50 this year.<\/p>\n

\"oldAnd 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.<\/p>\n

I’m okay with owning all of that. Because holy hell, apparently I’m 50 years old.<\/p>\n

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.”<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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 … <\/p>\n


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