The impending Five-Oh!
I'm turning 50 in about six weeks and can't decide on what I want to do or what I really want. draculachanter has been asking me for about two months if I want a big party, because it needs to be planned well in advance. We're living week to week right now and can't afford a big bash.
I don't want things or stuff. There's too much in the house.
In a recurring version of my dream birthday I'm like Bilbo Baggins...giving away years worths of accumulated mathoms, disappearing in a flash, and going to Rivendell so I can write.
In another I'm on stage doing filking with my guitar, overcoming decades of stage fright and entertaining friends with my talent and wit.
In the worst dream I go on a bender, behave foolishly and live to regret it.
One only turns 50 once...will I regret doing nothing?
I'm not fearful. Depressed? A little. Mildly disappointed? Somewhat. I try not to dwell on the past or bad decisions. I used to compare where I was every year with my father and both grandfathers, but that was a waste of time.
Here I am.
Feh.