There Is A Light

I'm rushing headlong to the end of my thirties, and as much as I tell myself to love what I love, that I know what I want and not let anything else bother me, I'm not exactly in a place to get everything that I want. On the one hand, my moral social code is more in line with those of my friends who already have kids, established careers, mortgages, monogamy and what not. On the other, my aesthetics are still geared toward ironic tees, jeans, sitting with knees up with hipster tunes blaring through $300 headphones while searching for Japanese watches at 3am in the morning. And sure, it's possible that there's some cute alt-chick with a small nosering, big blue anime eyes who gets just excited about covers of 80s alt tunes who isn't a porn star and isn't two decades younger than me, but let's be honest, the intersection of the Venn diagram of my moral social code and my aesthetics probably is probably populated by a single inhabitant.

But fuck it. I'm not sure I would be happy, at least in this point of my life, with 5am wakeups, heading to bed by 9, with someone I can't at least laugh with, much less have a conversation over 15 minutes, who's leisure reading is solely informed by the New York Times bestseller lists.