that other guy’s thoughts

I’m far too young to dread birthdays, but here it is anyway: I don’t like my birthday. I don’t like being the center of attention, I don’t like expectation of celebration or joy, I don’t like having the same conversation with everyone.

“How old are you?”…”What, only 25?”

But mostly, I don’t like my birthday because it brings into stark reality that which I have not done. Consider for a moment:

• Orson Wells was 26 when he wrote, directed, produced, and starred in Citizen Kane, probably the greatest artistic feat of the 20th Century.
• Michelangelo completed the Statue of David by 29.
• Issac Newton invented Calculus in head when he was 22. He also invented the reflecting telescope and discovered the nature of light by 31.
• Ayn Rand was 29 when she wrote “We the Living”

That’s just 4 off the top of my head, and I’m not even considering child prodigies like Mozart or 8-year-old Indian boys performing open-heart surgeries. I’m not hubristic enough to believe I could do any of those things by 85, let alone 25. But I think about these acts of excellence and awed by our capacity for great things. How do you possibly live up to something like that?

I’ve spent my entire life preparing for the future, now I’ve come to realize that preparation was impossible because success is impossible. You can’t “win” at life or “beat” the game. The only course is to reach for a piece of our latent capacity and to try.

So I find myself facing another birthday and celebrating another year of inevitably unrealized potential. Oh happy day.

On the other hand, maybe I should just listen to Katie and stop being such a pansy about getting older.