39% Done!

It is my 39th birthday, so I'm 39% of the way done. Confused? I decided long ago that one of the problems with life is that you don't know when the end is. If you are freaky about planning then you can't adequately schedule the time from birth do demise efficiently.

To remedy the situation I decided that I should make my existence finite. In such a scenario I can plan the course of events I can control, including life's end itself. Of course, I have no control of lightning stikes, car wrecks or disease, so I can't sweat that stuff. What I can control is my general health, and it isn't bad, or at least potential ailments are stuff that can be remedied with transplants, cell goo or complementaion with aborted baby parts.

It also allows me to celebrate other self-important milestones, such as my 33 1/3 party, which was May 15, 2000. We listened to LPs and split a gallon of Jack Daniels 3 ways.

The plan is simple-- My punk rock band will play a show on January 10, 2066. It is booked for the Cabaret Metro in Chicago, I'm going to make flyers soon. At the stroke of midnight I'll kill myself on stage, using a method predetermined by the audience via a website. The proceeds will go to a suicide prevention group. Irony.

A lot of people think this plan is morbid and sick, but I feel exactly the opposite. With a defined end, still 61 years off, I can delegate life events to predictable windows. I'll work like a maniac until 70, then I have 30 years to dick around. Cool. If all continues as planned I'll be filthy rich by 70. There's a few solar eclipses to catch and other long-time horizon events to consider.

To most, age is an enemy, time is a threat. To me, I like what I've become and get excited to think about what I will be. Living in a career of discovery, in a happy life of creativity, things keep getting better. I haven't measured, but I think it is still getting longer too. I get to daily combine the benefits of age with the benefits of youth, as I am acquiring, while not letting go. Kinda like Michael Jackson, only with guitars instead of face lifts and a good dinners rather than sex with cub scouts.

So, while others my age are going though a mid-life crisis at 39, wasting money on Porches and hair implants, I'm going to hoist a few 16oz Old Milwaukees and maybe get the wife to wear "The Outfit". My 39% life crisis is more like a 39% life opportunity, as my first half of life is 80% full.

Happy birthday to me.