Well, it finally happened: I turned 40 a few days ago.
So far, there isn't much that's different, except for everyone asking if I feel any different. Do I? Not really. I pretty much feel the same as I did when I was 26. Heck, I still have the same wife, job, and neighborhood as I did back then. What's changed? I'm in a different house. I'm working from home. And I have a two-year-old, plus another on the way. Of course, lots of people have kids at 26, so that's another thing that makes me feel young.
But I can't escape the sense of doors being shut. Acting is a long shot, as is a singing career, unless I can somehow pull a Susan Boyle. I'm no Mariano Rivera, so I can pretty much rule out professional sports. Or competing in the Olympics. And this year is my last chance for a Fields Medal. I can still run for president, but I have to at least be a community organizer first.
At least I can be reasonably optimistic that I have at least 40 more years left to do something. And 10 more years to plan the big blowout party I thought I'd have planned for my 40th. I did go to a nice dinner with Sue on my birthday (Eleven Madison Park - wonderful!), then hung out with friends at a bar (Flatiron Lounge) the next night, and at the beach (Jones) a couple days later. That's pretty much what I do every year, since it's always a good time. A non-blowout of a good time.
(Not that I know anyone who had a big blowout 40th birthday party. Or any sort of commemoration whatsoever. Am I not getting invited to 40th birthday parties, or do people just not have them?)