When you turn 30, life turns to the crapper

Last night was my nephew's first soccer game and it was adorable. Will and the rest of his team is four so before the game the coach got them all together and said, "Tonight, we're going to work on staying within the lines (of the field), and kicking the ball, and making a goal, okay? We're going to try kicking the ball and getting it into that net. All right, let's go!"

At which point the Silver Team rushed onto the 'field', really a 15 ft length of field marked off by little cones, and chaos commenced. Will was a Silver and they were playing the Orange Team, but the Oranges just kind of stayed in a line while the Silvers ran randomly around the field. There was some kicking, especially by an orange kid named Collin who, anytime he got the ball, just kicked and kicked and kicked, right into another game. And the next time, he got a good 30 feet before anyone realized that the ball had gone anywhere and Colllin was about to kick himself and the ball into a parked car. The whole thing was adorable. A. Door. Uh. Bull.

But it was also slightly eery. The parents were all people I knew, though they had no idea who I was. Almost all of them had been in the high school group at my church when I was in middle school. There was a father that I distinctly remember having a crush on when I was in the 7th grade. (He's now 50 lb.s overweight and unshaven. 7th grade crush retroactively crushed.) But there were all these other kids (now adults) that I had looked up to that were now grown up, with at least one kid. God, how it made me feel old.

Of course, the fact that I turned 30 recently doesn't help matters.  I'm not an adult. I don't feel like an adult. When I look at my friends, I don't feel like we're adults. We don't have that 50lbs-over weight-unshaven tarnish that seems to descend on someone once they become An Adult.  But I'm 30 for fuck's sake! I'm three decades old; a third of a century!  But I've nothing to show for it! No a-door-uh-bull kick ball machine, no graduate degree, no....uh....no....uh....I have a lot of earrings! Oh screw it. Doesn't help matters that it was the worst birthday I've ever had. I stayed at home in pajamas watching Top Gear until, finally, Mom and Dad wished me Happy Birthday and gave me flowers.

Look, I'm just sort of freaking out and wallowing in the occasional spouts of self-pity I allow myself. Because, good God, if you don't yourself one for your 30th birthday, then what the hell is good for?
















Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck holy shit balls!

(I'm not having a good time.)