Why not now?

If I live to be 74, my middle age will be now.

Thing is, I don’t think I will live that long.

My father was 49 when he passed away. Assuming: I have better diet (read - richer, more cholesterol), less stress (read - deadlines deadlines), more comprehensive medical attention, and the feel-good cocktail of female hormones – my expiry date would be somewhat extended. Say the extra time is 20%. My shelf life would then be 60. Reasonable maths I think, yes? That would make 30 my middle age, no? With all these assumptions plus my kumon maths, honey, I am waaaaay past middle age to have a mid-life crisis. As it is, I am already late by SEVEN year. Who says one must be in her 40s to be entitled to a mid-life crisis? Nobody ever calls it a ‘mid-40’ crisis. It is called ‘mid-life’ for a reason. So let’s not split hair over this.

Now that we have agreed that a crisis is overdue, let’s decide on what crisis I should be having.

So what is the typical crisis a middle-aged person can have? A man with an itch will use ‘mid-life crisis’ as an excuse - a medical condition. Wives are to stay home and wait out for the man to outgrow this most unpleasant phase. If he marries the ‘other woman’, the phase becomes permanent. The wife will be the one ending up with a lifetime crisis. One man wins, two women loses. Or three. Or four.

I have searched high and low, but I couldn’t find an itch anywhere. Well maybe a bit behind the ears. But the spots are within reach for a good scratch-and-win, so no big deal. That is to say, I am not about to take a second husband (Yamtuan, you rule!).

Boredom? Aaaahh… Now, let me think.

Home is too chaotic to be bored about. Sun is at that terrible age of two while Dot is all out to overthrow me and reign as the new queen of drama. One time I asked her to go take a shower. It was late and she was still loitering in front the tv. She said no. I said fine, she can jolly well go to school in her pyjamas and see if I give a burp. To this she cried and wailed, ‘but I love you! How could you do this to me? Why o why? I thought you loved me.. if I die, you wont have me anymore’ Aiyohhhh…. Drama one kind! I am not even exaggerating! What a prodigy, don’t you think? And the award goes tooooooo…oo DOT!! With all the ruckus, the neighbors probably think that I am forcing her to go wed some ancient but rich penghulu kampung. Now THAT’s not such a bad idea after all. I’ll think more about this.

At home, I am forever dodging attacks from my little cicakman of a son plus the soap operas of Dot. No, I am not bored at home. Never really have time to think about it either.

The office, however, is another story. I feel bored, I am tired, I am wasted. I am sick of doing same-ole-same-ole, about had it up to here *pointing the forehead* with desk job. I want excitement, some action. Too bad I am too short to be a cop. Plus I am clumsy and heavy. Wouldn’t it be great otherwise, to chase different crook everyday? Shoot some bad guys. Kapow! Kapow! While I am at it, maybe I can cut off some bad husbands too – there, where it hurts the most. Blow up some C14s and then go nenong-nenong on the big white bike. Best of all, the ability to stop traffic just by the flip of my hair and hand – fully dressed at that too. Cooool. But alas, never gonna happen, too short.

Now that I let myself think ehem … seriously about the lack-of-lustre in my mundane mundane job, I am beginning to see a crisis forming itself. Crisis 1) boredom at work.

I want to stop being so responsible all the time. I want to throw caution into air, pack my knapsack and go skygliding somewhere. Maybe I can glide off from the roof of my office as a start. To heck with clocking in at 9 and out at 6. I want to glide freely, land on solid ground, neck intact, limbs all in place, wipe the nervous sweat off my face with a nice thick blue towel and throw the wet towel back to the office and say, I am outta here, TATA.

Over dinner with Anedra the other day, for want of sympathy, I whispered to her, ‘Oi, I am having a mid-life crisis’.
She answered ‘Can’t you wait a few more years for that? At least 3 more years?’
Laugh-laugh-laugh. Wait sum more? When I am already late?
No sympathy there.
Never one to give up so easily, I waddled over to Maya and whispered to her, ‘we must meet soon. I am going through a mid-life crisis.’
‘Hehehehe, okay’.
Chuckle-chuckle. Just ‘okay’? No, not okay! How can?
With Yamtuan as I snuggled in closer for better dramatic effect, ‘Sami, I am going through a mid-life crisis.’
‘Oh pigida *go away*.’ was the reply.
Piggy what?? Where?
To my boss, ‘Ma’am, I can’t and won’t do this report because I am having a mid-life crisis’.
I don’t remember what she answered but I remember staying up late to finish the blooming report. See what I mean?

I have decided that that could be another issue to make a crisis of, (2) nobody pays attention to miserable poor crisis-ful me.

*Wail! Wail! Pull hair! Beat chest! Flail arms to the sky!*

How long is this supposed to last? Not too long I hope, because dammit, nobody seems to notice!

From http://www.teamtechnology.co.uk/tt/t-articl/midlife.htm

Midlife Crisis is a natural process (first identified by the psychologist Carl Jung) and it is a normal part of 'maturing'.

If you are going through midlife crisis, you might experience a wide range of feelings, such as:
a) Discontent with life and/or the lifestyle that may have provided happiness for many years
b) Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest and dominated your life
c) Feeling adventurous and wanting to do something completely different
d) Questioning the meaning of life, and the validity of decisions clearly and easily made years before
e) Confusion about who you are, or where your life is going.