So today is a big day.
Not just because the wonderful World Cup starts. [Albeit later due to timezone differences]
Nor because it’s a few days before my beloved Jill and Paul celebrate their birthdays.
But because it’s mine.
44.
FORTYFUCKINGFOUR.
How the hell did that happen?
That’s 6 years off 50!!!
That means I have to accept the chances of me becoming an international rockstar, selling stadiums all over the World are almost nil.
As is my chance to play for Nottingham Forest. [Though the way they played towards the end of last season, means that might not be so impossible]
As is becoming a billionaire … unless I count it in Vietnamese Dong.
I know at my age I shouldn’t celebrate my birthday, but I can’t help myself … because as much as sometimes I feel 144, the majority of the time, I feel 21.
Or at least act it.
I have always said 30-40 is the equivalent of the biological clock for men.
It’s the decade where you have a desire to really make something with your life … do things that could make a difference to how the rest of your life turns out. And I still believe that and – to a degree – I did it.
But that doesn’t mean it has to be over when you hit the big 4-0.
As I said before, the older you get, the more I realise I don’t know and the more I want to learn … discover … experience … and that’s why despite being 6 years off the age that I used to consider ‘ancient’, I am putting myself in a position to keep pushing myself forward. Not necessarily from a professional point of view, but from a life point of view.
Whether that’s studying to be a teacher or meeting strange and interesting fellows, I want to ensure I fulfil my parents wish for me, which is to live a life of fulfilment rather than a life of contentment.
Which leads to the title of the post.
Why do I say the Mayan’s were almost right?
Well, because they believed the end of civilisation would happen in 2012.
But it’s not going to happen in 2012, it’s going to happen this year.
And why can I say that?
Because this is happening …
… yep, a baby Campbell is on the way.
If you’re scared, you should see me, I’m bloody petrified.
But I’m also incredibly happy, proud, emotional and excited.
However, what’s even more amazing is how we’re already questioning, evaluating and challenging everything we believe and hope for – and thats before the little bugger is even born yet – so god knows what it will be like when he/she pops out.
For the record, we will not be naming him/her Brian, Freddie, John, Roger or Birkenstock.
Oh, and in a demonstration the universe has a sense of humour, we found out on April 1.
Yes, laugh it up you sickos.
So sorry World, it’s happening – a mini Campbell – but on the bright side:
1. He/she might take after Jill much more than me.
2. If he/she doesn’t, you know you can go out and buy whatever you want, because by 2015, civilisation as we know it will end and that includes no bailiffs knocking on your door demanding cash.
That’s a win:win in my book.
And with that, happy birthday to me … the last one where I get to be the only kid in the house.