Well, I’m 32.

My birthday was yesterday. It was nothing spectacular, which isn’t out of the ordinary, because it never is. I expect no less.

My birthday could not come at a worse time. December 29th falls in between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. People never remember–they have way too many other things going on. I can hardly blame them.

It sucked when I was a kid. All my toys said “Merry Christmas, and Happy Birthday”. In high school my birthdays got worse. I always managed to fuck up and get myself on restriction, so I was never able to celebrate. I remember eating dog food on my 16th birthday so I would remember it. It worked. I don’t remember my 18th birthday, but I do know I was on restriction and that I didn’t eat dog food.

My 21st birthday was a classic. I was in the Navy back then, and we were in our home port of Long Beach. It was on a Wednesday. When I finally got off work I wanted to party dammit. It was my 21st birthday and I was finally legal! But, nobody wanted to go out. My best friend at the time, Andy, was off with his girlfriend. Stan was too tired. Ernie was sick. Shotty went home. Well I didn’t want to stay on the ship, so I went out by myself. I went to Moose’s (a place I would work at for 3 years right after I got out of the Navy) and had one beer. It was dead. Then I went to Denny’s and had a crappy, greasy dinner. Then I went back to the ship. Wow. Happy fucking 21st birthday, Tom.

My 30th birthday was probably the best one I’ve had in 15 years however. I went to see Lord of the Rings with my hacker friends. After dinner we went back to a friend’s apartment and played video games for the rest of the night. It was pretty fun, actually. But hardly the extravaganza you would expect for such a momentous occasion.

I’m at the point now where I shit my pants if anyone actually remembers my birthday. This year only 3 people remembered–my dad, Monica, and Scott. This year for my birthday I slept until 2:30pm. I got cleaned up, messed around for awhile, and then drove down to Roseville to hang out with Scott. We took a taxi to the new Indian casino, Thunder Valley. We drank a whole crapload of Cappys and Coke, and I won $150 on the Wheel of Fortune slot machine. Then we took a taxi back to his house and had a few cocktails, and chatted while watching infomercials. It was a pretty relaxing birthday I guess.

So now I’m 32. I was thinking on the drive home this morning about my age. I hate it. I hate thinking about how old I am. I don’t feel old. I don’t act old. I look in the mirror and I don’t think I look that old. But 32 *IS* old. I am old. I hate that. I hate hate hate fucking hate that. I don’t want to be 32, I want to be 22 again. Piss. Moan. Cry. Bitch. Whine.

I’m 32 and what do I have to show for it? I drive a shitty pickup and I live in an apartment. I’m single, never been married and have no kids. I’m unemployed and practically broke all the time. I’m still in college. Oh well. I made my choices, and I live with them. I have few regrets, actually.

Most people pretty much have their shit together by the time they’re 30. Not me though, I’m still fucking around. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get around to growing up. You know, wife and kids and mortgage and SUV and 401k and all that jazz. Probably not. At 50 I’ll still be hoppin’ around from town to town, job to job, bed to bed. Hopefully I’ll still have the zest for life that I do now, along with my curiosity and my adventuresome, free spirit. It would be a tragedy for a jackass like me to settle down and live the surburban 9 to 5 boredom that so many poor saps choose.

I choose freedom. It’s always been my choice. Freedom to move around and do my thing, and not be tied down to anyone or anything. My old girlfriend, Cindy, used to tell me, “You don’t want a girlfriend.” She was right, I didn’t and I don’t. I don’t want to have to deal with anyone’s crap. My sister said last week, “Tee does whatever he wants.” She’s right, I do. I do whatever I damn well please and I don’t have to answer to anyone. Just how I like it.

Let us recap–my birthdays have always been shitty, at 32 I still don’t have my shit together, and I’m a free spirit. There will be a quiz on Monday morning. Class dismissed.