Just remember, once you're over the hillyou begin to pick up speed.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Charles Schulz
People generally dread turning 30, like an affliction that creeps in in the dead of night, turning youth into vain memory, a faint spark of glory days when life meant frolicking in wanton abandon, unbridled by mature conceptions such as responsibility and making a living. Considered a social fulcrum, men of this age and beyond are expected to forego juvenile dreams, and fickle behaviour, opting for the supposedly adult values of sound-mindedness, being goal-oriented, and a sense of obligation.
How easy it would be fall into this stereotype, conceding to the call of age, of time, and of the present. To pledge allegiance to social expectations, because the alternative, uncertainty, is a disposition that men fear with the same progression as they do with age. That the closer you are to your deathbed, the more you fear its eventuality, thus consequently turning the most free-spirited of us into jaded, indifferent, flawed pragmatists and cynics. That to become an adult, or mature, means to fall in line, to follow the flock, and to brand oneself with the searing humility of normalcy.
