Dripping

Yesterday, I likened the loss of another year of youth like the slow draining of Halal meat. Of course, I recognise the over dramatising of this inevitable situation. It’s just a birthday and I’m just another piece of aging meat. But you know, no biggie. I’ll just be over there, hanging upside down, dripping, ready to be devoured by mankind.

Sorry.

As a sign of my new found maturity (I think I might be finding it this year) I have managed to complete most things on my list. Sure, my financial awareness is still low and I’ve failed on the one dream I have (to get an article published), but hell, at least I’ve managed to make sushi.

The list for next year might perhaps be grander, more worldy and wise. It might include things like ‘clean venetian blinds’ or ‘learn correct use of apostrophes’. It might even include climbing some sort of mountain. Note, during that last sentence, I just had a brilliant, mature, go-getter thought! I’ve decided to make the list 30 things to do before 30 and goddamn it, I’m going to tick off every fucking one.

To aging and blessed meat!