Okay, I have a confession to make. This World Cup blog thing isn't really working. For a start, I don't have enough to say, apart from comments like "Did you see that?" whilst watching a match. Really only relevant to Xander, who's the only one there at the time (and he doesn't often seem to care). Also, not that I'm obsessed with the numbers, but my stats are way down lately. So, I'm going back to my "normal" blog mode (a sort of disjointed mush of boring personal stories, misinformed politics, and cynical social comment...come to think of it, why were my stats higher before?) and will just write World Cup stuff as and when I feel like it. Which will definitley be tomorrow...
In the meantime, I'm experiencing Personal Crisis #2387: The Ageing! Because I only have two weeks in my mid-twenties left. After that I'll move into the dreaded late twenties territory. This all seems most unfair. No one asked me if I was okay with this, but there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
It's not getting old itself that I mind. I like having an excuse not to go places where the music is loud, not to mention not having to hide my AOR CDs. I'm not exactly interested in picking up, so I don't care if I lose my looks. I enjoy dinner parties and talking about real estate. No, the getting old part is just fine, and life now is a lot better than when I was a student living on instant noodles.
But at times like this you do tend to take stock of your life, and what I see is rather worrying. I feel I should have achieved more right now, or if not, at least have achieved something. My career is just kind of ooching along (The word "ooching" I've only ever heard as a Bushism, but it's the best I've ever heard to describe the situation. I have no major assets. And quite frankly I thought I'd be married by now - I do wake up with a gorgeous guy in my arms every morning, but he usually bats my nose with his paw and meows for his breakfast.
I guess it's all my own fault for failing to make any plans for my life when I was younger, but the problem can be summed up by this Simpson's dialogue:
Marge: When we got married, is this how you thought we'd be spending our
Saturdays? Driving out to the boondocks to trade in a refrigerator
Homer: Meh, I never thought I'd live this long.
(Are there many situations in life which can't be summed up by Simpson's dialogue?)
I can barely even make plans for my own birthday party. Boof and I are having one, and it will be a 90s party, but little things like confirming a date, actually inviting people, organising food etc all seem beyond us. Never mind. I'm sure it will be a lovely time anyway, even if it's left so much to the last minute that the festivities consist of sitting in the car eating packs of mustard...