Twenty-three

Fourty-six minutes ago I turned 23. I usually waver between total ambivelance and bald-faced hatred when it comes to the aging process but this year I feel kind of excited. Perhaps I'm finally growing up? Actually I can't really describe how I feel right now. It's a mixture of many things.

I'm in a very existentially aware mood, for want of a better description. This is probably due in no small part to watching I heart Huckabees this morning. If you've seen the movie then you'll know why. If you haven't then rent it or something, it's really clever. Very briefly, it's about the fundamental interconectedness of everything, much in the same vain as Douglas Adam's Dirk Gently (of whom I am a huge fan). They're both really quirky and weird and fun; so if you're into weird, quirky, fun movies with complex plots and outlandish characters, give it a watch. And suddenly this has strayed into movie review territory. My bad. Luckilly, this illustrates perfectly that all things are interconnected: I can go from turning 23 to being existentially aware to a movie review in one fluid snake-like movement.

I feel bewildered. Ok so I'm 23. Now what? I'm going to be five years older than most of my cohort at uni this year. That's a weird thought. Everyone has been telling me that this is a good thing: age bringing life experience and maturity and all that. I guess we'll soon see. The strange thing about this all is that I've been a boy for most of my life, not a man. I was taking the dog for a walk one day and a little boy (about 4 or so) and his mother came up to me. "Ask the man if you pat the dog, darling," said the mother. I nearly turned around to see if there was a man with a dog behind me, thinking what a striking coincidence it was and how I could swear she was looking at me and--oh yeh, she was talking about me. And now here I am, enrolled in an institution of higher learning.

I feel excited and liberated. So why so excited this year? The simple answer is that I finally have some kind of direction this time around. I'm starting uni this year; looking forward. I'm not going to be trapped in this place for much longer. Living here, at home, with a politically and religiously conservative sister is so hard sometimes. But I know it won't be long. She might hate me but to be honest I'm starting to get to the point of not caring anymore. It's her issue not mine. That realisation is surprisingly liberating.

Mostly I feel sad. I just realised that this is my first birthday without Pop. He always called me at 7pm--at the most inopportune time, right at the beginning of Home and Away--without fail. He's say "Hello boy! Happy birthday!" I can hear it in my head if I close my eyes. On Saturday it will be two months since he died but it feels like a lifetime has passed since the 3rd of December. I've always wondered what grief feels like and now I know. It's not like I think about him every second of every day and fall to my knees wailing. I mean at the beginning I felt like doing that, deep inside, but the tears never came. Since then I have stopped thinking about him everyday, longing for his company, missing him like crazy. I still do these things, just not on a daily basis. Fuck I miss him.

The night before he died, my dad said to Pop, "Tomorrow will be a better day."
And Pop said, "Yes it will."