Stock Non-Standard

As my Dirty Thirty approaches ever closer, I can’t help but look at my life and take stock. Especially when those I speak to inevitably remind that the 30s is the age when you’re truly considered to be an adult. No more of that cheerful irresponsibility the 20s afford, 30s is where you really get down to business. I’m afraid I fail.

For one, I’m still homeless. No place to call my own. My job barely pays for my weekly necessities let alone payments for mortgages or even rent. I have no real substantial asset, unless you count a credit card loaded with debt as something remotely redeemable. And I’m still single with only a history of failed relationships to keep my bedside warm.

But then I find myself having spontaneous cocktails with friends on a balmy Sunday evening, with no need to be anywhere else or a need to answer to anybody, and I realise my life is pretty good in spite of these failings, especially when recalling the marvellous weekend...

...comedy shows, festival discussions, art galleries, film screenings, radio shows, television production, lunches, banquets, birthdays, wines, beers, cocktails, cocktails, cocktails, friends, family and BFFs...

I may be considered a failure when measured by traditional yardsticks, but looking at my own, I realise that my stock isn't bad at all. I guess it's just different to most.