Yes, folks, I am old.

Jay London said it best: Thank You.

By the time many of you read this (you know who you are, many thanks), I would be older and a lot more cranky. But not that old, as told by my (old) colleagues.

Which, is funny, since I’ve always felt old.

This year I turn 24 (!!!) and it’s as though I’m turning, urgh, 42. I’m, at present, semi-contented (I’ll get to the other not-contented part later) with my life; I’ve a job where I don’t feel like quitting anytime this month. Or the next. I’ve great colleagues that make it more interesting and the fact that I get paid (poorly) means I don’t have to scour the newspapers and various recruitment websites for a job with the title “Good Pay” in it for days on end. And before I forget, I am now entering my seventh (7) month of being employed! Kudos to me. I’ve good friends who I don’t get to see often. But that’s my fault, to be perfectly honest. I’m busy (I’m not fond of this word because the minute you say you’re busy, people automatically assume you’re going to give birth or perform some extraordinary feat with your feet) throughout the weekdays (Boss: I’ve done ALL my reports, just waiting to send them, hehe) and by the end of the day, I just want to go home, eat my mommy’s cooking and sleep. Weekends for me are packed with familial and other commitments and since now the price of basically everything has gone up, so has my legendary parsimony.

Alas, there are some things that do not jive (this is an old word only old-timers like myself know how to use without sounding like a college nerd who has just discovered braces) with me. I really don’t know why I’m saying this, but I’m just going to say it anyway:

Ladies, I’m still available.

I’ve always been a Lone Ranger of sorts. I got this from my dad, I guess. I’d rather go about doing my things by myself than drag along a friend. I wouldn’t even consider bringing my best mate for something that I’d rather do myself because I know I’ll do it much quicker and with less expenditure. I don’t eat lunch when I’m out by myself, you know. But sometimes…sometimes it would be nice to have someone special holding on to you while you’re both walking in a shopping centre. I admit, I miss that feeling. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s all the rom-coms (WTF! Chris watches rom-coms???!?!?!?!) I’ve watched recently. Maybe, just maybe, I would like to be—I can’t believe I’m going to say this:

Wanted. (Not in a criminal way, of course.)

I know, I know. My time will come and yadda yadda. Thankfully, those emo days are far and wide. Sometimes, I’ll say, “Thank God, I’m single.” Parsimony is a wonderful thing when you’re pampering yourself.

I have become a bit more eccentric, if that’s possible. I tend to say and do things that a few years ago were impossible. I won’t name them here, partly because I don’t remember the exact details or the nature of how it happened, but suffice it to say, it has gotten me into some pretty awkward and not pleasant situations. I’m a bit bolder. I’m probably known in the office as the court jester. Which is fine by me. I’d rather be the jovial, funny dude than be the office asshole that everyone detests on sight.

Thanks to all who wished me and may your week ahead be blessed with good things.

I hope mine will, too.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Orkay, I wrote this whilst partially under the emo spell. Darn, I hate it. Must listen to Slayer now. Ahhh…