I like the 30’s. I’ve been in them for three years now and I have to say it’s a big relief after the 20’s, if only because I was able to let go of the nagging idea that anything means anything. It seems once you give up needing everything to mean something, the things that actually do mean something kind of mean more. The fourth decade on earth is also the first time one can appreciate just how simultaneously short and long life is. And it’s true what they say about time speeding up too. Not only does it speed up, but it also warps. For example, a lot of things that happened nine years ago seem further away than things that occurred in college and high school. You sort of stop seeing things linearly. Or maybe just I do. It’s completely possible I’m losing my mind.

The best thing to happen to me since I left the 20’s is that I no longer feel the need to apologize, to myself or anyone else, for having certain traits that I could never cop to before. I just let it all hang out. Not in a “hey-look-at-me” sort of way. That’s a teenager ploy. It’s more like a result of exhaustion, like I got too tired to carry around suitcases full of disguises. Maybe it would be different if I had any kind of quirks that were truly hideous, but the fact is, the process of accepting all of the things I’ve learned to deal with was pretty easy because all of them are very acceptable. I’d rather sleep than stay up late. I don’t like crowded, loud places, except for street fairs. I’d rather watch people than to talk to most of them (but the ones I like are the best reason to exist, and even the ones that annoy me are fascinating). That’s about it.

I’ve got this new thing I do that I’m totally into now. I light a candlestick and stare at it. It’s incredibly entertaining. The longer I stare, the more I drift away and think of the weirdest shit. The flame doesn’t tell me what to think or in what way I should think about it. It’s not a democrat or republican. It doesn’t nag me to save money. It’s not a fat, ugly flame married to a hot wife and have a laugh track for jokes that aren’t funny. I drift along on a directionless stream, which is impossible to do while sitting in front of a computer screen in a harshly lit office. If my 5-disc CD player is playing in its random function, naturally each song takes me back. Last night it was a mash-up of times and places: High School in 1989 with Elvis Costello, sophomore year of college in 1993 thanks to Robyn Hitchcock, 1994 courtesy of Kristin Hersh, feeling more at home in a new city and hopelessly in love with a hopeless girl in 2000, brought back to mind by the Eels. Like I said before, the order of things is lost somehow and the idea of time becomes abstract. 1989 felt no longer ago than 2000, maybe because each one is so equally unrelated to the now. Or maybe because I’m so utterly at peace with it all.