Most days, the annoying sound of my cellphone alarm clock jolts me awake and I briefly wonder what day we are before realizing that it doesn’t matter, I need to get up anyway. Occasionally, I wake up feeling like I have stepped in the wrong life. At times, adrenaline kicks in as soon as I open my eyes—shit, I’m late, I have a deadline, why is Mark whining anyway? Most often, I wake up making a mental promise that from now on, I will go to bed earlier because five hours of sleep just isn’t enough—promise that will be broken the very same night but eh, it’s the thought that counts.
Today, I woke up thinking I turned 33.
A split second later, I pulled the duvet back over my head and closed my eyes to grab a few more minutes of sleep.
Turning 33 did not magically make me a morning person—add that to my list of failures.
Actually, turning 33 didn’t change a thing. Well, so far anyway. I don’t have yet the full 365-days-of-being-33 experience but a few hours into the slightly older me taught me that yes, I’m still the same. Damn. Damn because most days, I feel I just don’t have enough time and energy to be everything I want to be—a patient mother, a supportive sexy wife, a skilled professional and that fun friend everybody want to hang out with. I wish I were prettier, more stylish, wittier, more successful and better connected. Oh, and I wish I wasn’t so damn insecure because let’s face it, it kind of shows here.
I’m annoyed with myself for not accomplishing enough. I have all these ideas, these projects, these theories and despite my best efforts, I always seem to run out of time and/or energy before I can even think about them. Life happens, work, chores, the usual mundane call of duties. Making things running smoothly and being your average, somewhat productive citizen? More or less accomplished. Changing the world, indulging in the pleasures of life and tackling my projects? Postponed, over and over again. Case in point: I can’t even do my own fucking birthday. Like every year, but for writing the milestone article, it’s a day like any other because I wouldn’t know how to organize a party and buying my own cake feels lame, so I end up eating oatmeal and a sandwich at 1 a.m. like every freaking day (it’s okay, I like savoury oatmeal, I have this great recipe with tofu if you care for it).
Alright, martyr mode off. I may have reached the venerable age when Jesus was crucified but I don’t plan on following in his footsteps.
I have 12 full months of being 33 ahead of me. What would I like? Among other things, and in no particular order…
- I’d like to be a better version of myself, as mentioned above.
- I’d like to win something. Not the lottery (I don’t even play), but something. I never win anything!
- I’d like to experience a bit of luxury. Like a day at a Spa or in a fancy hotel. Just for a change, being pampered instead of taking care of other people.
- I’d like to wrap up a project I started in 2011 and be successful with it.
- I’d like to dare to compete instead of withdrawing from the race whenever I feel my chances are slim. Some people are competitive by nature—I’m not. At all. And I tend to just avoid situations where I have to fight and prove I’m the best in whatever.
I’d better get up and get started. I want it to be a productive year.