We've all been there. You've got a big birthday coming up and you start to examine your life in minute detail. You get panicky and decide YOU'VE NOT DONE ENOUGH WITH YOUR LIFE! Well, I am that soldier. I am almost 29 and I've always sworn that when I turn 29, I'll spend the last year in my twenties doing all those things that I've been meaning to and haven't gotten around to. I'm just a big cliche really. Obviously, I want to travel more and see the world but that stuff requires a bit of saving and I'll get around to it. There are a few other little bits that I'd like to tick off the list though. They are all achievable so I think I'll get stuck in. There's no excuse! What do you reckon? Any ideas? If it's a good enough suggestion, I'll add it to my 'f*ck it list'.
Get my nose pierced
Since I was 16, I've wanted to get my nose pierced. I wrestled with a couple of different reasons why I shouldn't. My Dad would lose his head. I am now 28 years of age. I need to grow a pair. Then, there was the 'My nose is too big' argument. I do have a massive nose and sticking a big silver ring in there would definitely highlight this fact. But, I've grown to like the old beak. Unless I go down the ski slope surgery route, I'm stuck with it. Then finally, I always worried that I wasn't trendy enough. I'm not trendy at all. The fact I'm even saying trendy cements this fact. But then, isn't being 30 all about being comfortable in your own skin?! Maybe, I should stop worrying about everyone else and just pierce my bloody nose.
Learn to drive
Yes, I know, I can't drive. I'm almost 30 and I can't drive. I've threatened to learn more times that I've had hot dinners. I've set myself goals and targets and all manner of incentives but just never followed through. It's not that I don't want to and it's not that I've never tried. But, I do have a bit of a reputation when it comes to being clumsy and if I can barely walk in a straight line, how will I ever manage to drive properly?! I was trying to learn with a friend of mine and I was flying it, I came home to practice with my Mam and.....well....I put the clutch down so hard that it never came back up again. That scars a person, y'know.
Skinny Dip
I love the idea of running into the sea in the nip. Oh, the divilment, the excitement, the freedom! But, to be honest I would need to spend 5 months in a gym training with Conor McGregor before I could whip off the cacks and skitter off into the sea. Having said all that, I'll never do these things if I keep wittering on about my love handles and my manky feet. If it was dark enough and I was armed with someone waiting on the edge of the sea with a MASSIVE towel to cover my dignity upon exit of said sea, I'd love to give it a shot.
Learn Irish
I love being Irish and I love the Irish language. I love how it sounds and the history and culture attached to it. I was always alright at it in school, but it wasn’t something that came naturally to me. I went down to visit a friend of mine in the Gaeltacht during the Summer and I just loved seeing everyone talking in Irish. It was deadly. I was mortified however, because I could barely order a pint. I’m going to make a confession and this is REALLY embarrassing. I actually said ‘Gracias’ instead of ‘Go raibh maith again’. ARRRGH. I would like to get to the point where I could meet Daíthí Ó Se (I KNOW I’m too old to be a Rose. Gutted) and having a full conversation with him.
Do a triathlon
I am super unfit. I have more spare tyres than a.....tyre factory. It’s simple really. I love food. I love all manner of food. I just enjoy eating it. But here comes the science bit, I eat loads and I don’t move much. Although, I’ve always thought that I’m a fit person in a lazy person’s body if that makes sense. I actually enjoy sport and being active, I love the routine, I love the sense of achievement and, come on, let’s face it, I like the glory. But, I suppose, I need to do less eating, more moving and less socialising. I ‘claim’ I don’t have time, but in fairness, if I spent less time acting the maggot at the weekend, I’d be a much fitter person. So, come hell or high water, I’m going to do a triathlon before I turn 30. My bum is not built for bike saddles, but if I can shrink my arse significantly by eating less and moving around more, this could actually happen. COME ON!
Go Zorbing
Well, this one is simple. Who doesn’t want to roll down a hill in a giant ball?
Tattoo
I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. But, this is where me being a MASSIVE SQUARE comes into it. I have lots of friends who have tattoos, some brilliant, some not so brilliant. I do want to get one though and in fairness, I’ve had a design in my head since I was 18. I’m now almost 29 and still love it, so I think that’s a good sign. It’s small and classy, it means something to me, I think it always will. My main worry has been where to put it? You have to consider the wedding dress and also just general ageing ; I don’t want a wrinkly tattoo. However, if this my year to do all those things I’ve always threatened to, I should just cop on and get on with it right? TATTOO ME UP BABY.
Go to Lisdoonvarna
I’ve always wanted to go to the Matchmaking Festival at Lisdoonvarna. I love the idea of a big session and a bit of romance. Now, I know I’m a bit of a romantic but I have a vision of meeting a hot American man, enjoying a weekend of rustic romance, standing on the rugged beach with the wind whipping around us. Naturally, we’d be wearing Aran jumpers and retreating to a warm log fire to cuddle and fall in love. That could totally happen right? Sure. I’ll go, meet John from Athlone, go to Supermacs, have a garlic cheese chips and fall in like.
Photo Album
I love pouring through my Mam’s old photo albums and looking at her and Dad as YOUNG PEOPLE! Shock horror. They had a life? They went to festivals? Nah, surely not. I invented festivals. Nowadays, no one prints out their photos. The good ones make it onto Facebook, they get 45 likes and then they disappear into nothingness. But, sometimes I get panicked. What if I grow old and my memories fade? What if I want to tell my children about the time I dyed my hair pink or about the time I put a traffic cone on my head and I don’t have the photographic proof. It’s hassle isn’t it? You’ve to go and gather all the photos, stick them on a USB, print them off and then actually put them in an album. Never mind the expense of it all. It’s like a library fine, you ignore it for so long and then you’ve to pay the arrears. But, it’s something that I would like to do sooner than later and now that I’m actually thinking about it, wouldn’t it be great to invite all the girls over, throw out all the photos on the table and do it together. Imagine the laugh you’d have remembering all those forgotten moments! There’s the lad with the snaggle tooth that you scored in college that somehow managed to make it into your picture or the dodgy white trousers that you REFUSED to take off. I’m going to do it. Not the white trousers mind, they are long gone.
