twentyeight

So, I've officially survived what the NME describe as 'the year of rock and roll death'. That is to say, such rock luminaries such as Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain all died aged 27.

Whereas I do have rock music preferences, I hardly epitomise the lifestyle of rock and roll excess, so perhaps it's not surprising that I'm still here as I embark on my 29th year.

The thing that bothers me about my birthday today is those named above had already established their legacy to music at the time of their death. However, I am not a rock icon but a mere mortal. I long to have some kind of lasting impact on the world with my life but quite a lot of the time am not even sure what direction I am headed in, let alone what my legacy to this world will be.

Have I become the kind of person I didn't want to become ten years ago? I worry that I've morphed into a man who is a slave to work and less and less capable of creating a lasting and beneficial effect on the lives of those around him.

Maybe I'm just in a melancholy mood because I'm getting older.

But maybe I'm onto something and need to take the chance to make a change before I get to a point where the opening for that change has long gone.