So now it's snowing. I'm sitting at Sarah's desk, watching the snow fall through the steamed up windows while Sarah leans against the sofa and makes flash cards for her exam tomorrow. I'm going to test her on them later, but for now I'm idling away my time on #sinister, chatting to Jay, Jay, Andy and Laura. They are all berating me for having only just watched The Breakfast Club for the very first time.
I enjoyed it, though. I didn't realise how little fashion has moved on since 1984. I didn't realise how petite my nostrils are in comparison to Judd Nelson's. I was also genuinely surprised at how it didn't look dated. Then I realised that on the date the action was supposed to have taken place, I was already in double figures. I also realised I'm sounding scraily close to grown-up Fred Savage in The Wonder Years. Or Carrie Bradshaw. Argh.
It was my birthday yesterday. Twenty-nine doesn't seem scary in itself, but it does mean next is thirty, and that's fucking terrifying. My dad, who's essentially my hero and role model when it comes to how I live my life, said that 30 was the one birthday that really shook him.
Looking at it a different way, though, it feels as if I'm being granted one final twelvemonth to sort my life out and get it firmly onto the track I'd like it to follow for the indefinite future. In some ways, I'm already making very good progress; in others, not so much.
Ach, please ignore this self-indulgent piffle and entertain yourselves properly at the links mentioned above. I'm going to return to snow-watching.
Posted by biondino at March 18, 2003 06:09 AMFor the record, I didn't say word one about not seeing The Breakfast Club.
*I* have never seen it at all.