I knew it wasn’t a good idea this morning to write this column about turning fifty-nine and a half this week. I didn’t get much sleep last night and I may even have had a little too much cheese before dinner.
I’m sure you know the feeling.
But write it I must, since this is the time each and every week that I dedicate to this column, so I really have no choice.
I decided a few days ago what the theme would be for this week and, considering that I’m not feeling my best this morning, I’m not feeling much in the mood to try and come up with a better idea. So, I’m stuck with this one.
Deadlines are not very understanding.
Last November I wrote a column on turning fifty-nine and how I wasn’t going to let it get to me and how I am only getting better and wiser as I age, so I thought the idea would make for another “feel good” one this time around. But I wrote that column after a very good night’s sleep and, I’m sure, I had plenty of fiber the day before, so I was feeling pretty darn good and on my game. It’s no wonder the thing came out so positive.
Even a couple of days ago, when I came up with the idea, I was having a good day. I thought it would be funny to comment on turning 59 ½. How I hadn’t counted my age in halves since I was probably nine. How it wouldn’t be cool to tell people you were at a half-year in age when you were in your teens. How, after thirty, you certainly didn’t want to be rushing things along by actually making yourself older by adding a half-year on.
Then I thought, as I was turning sixty exactly six months from the publication date of this issue, that it would be funny to say that anytime anyone asked me how old I was going to be this year, I could say “fifty-nine and a half” in a humorous way of holding off the inevitable.
The idea was to give it all a light–hearted feel.
Of course, all of this seemed like such a good idea forty-eight hours ago with a clear head and system. But now, here I am at the time and place of my deadline, and I’m not feeling all that great about it. In fact, I’m a little bummed.
I was supposed to write that now that fifty-nine and a half has passed and I have to own up to sixty, it really isn’t all that bad. How each and every day is a new journey and I have no regrets and how I am looking forward to my next great adventure.
In all honesty, I’m not feeling it right now. I am having a few regrets, but at the time that fourteenth piece of Monterey Jack cheese tasted really good and as far as my next adventure goes, all I’m thinking about right now is getting back to bed and taking a long nap until I can pull myself together.
So, I apologize to you the readers. I was truly planning on filling this page with wonderful words of inspiration to all of you who are fretting about an upcoming birthday. I really wanted to tell you that it really is how you think about who you are that determines how old you really are. How getting older isn’t a matter of numbers, it’s a matter of words, the words you say to yourself every day. I wanted to tell you that age is really all about perception and intention.
I guess all of that is going to have to wait for another day because, frankly, I’m just not feeling it. What can I say, it’s just one of those days. I’m sure I’ll be feeling better next week when I sit down to write, but it will be about something completely different since this idea’s time will have passed.
I guess you will all just have to take it upon yourselves to try and figure out where I was supposed to go with all of this today. I do apologize for not following through but I’m sure that you have been in the same situation yourself on occasion.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take care of some urgent business.
I’ll see you next week.
Brendan’s new book “The Best Of A F.O.O.L. In New Hampshire” will be published soon. Hear some of the stories at www.foolinnh.com