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The last 2-3 years of my life have, for the most part, been overwhelmingly dominated by the pedantry of adulthood and working life. I suppose it’s an inevitability: the unbridled recklessness of youth and the pursuit of adventure eventually takes a backseat to paying bills, saving for the future, matrimonial best man duties, trading in sneakers for loafers and such. 

Over the span of the last 2-3 months, I’d taken active measures to ease the workload in an attempt to gain a semblance of balance between work and play. Less meetings and killer deadlines, more FIFA and comic books. In the midst of doing what are obviously young men’s fancies, there’s a curmudgeonly part of me that scoffs at how such things can be seen as a massive waste of time - immature and being of little value (apart from the rare occasions where pop-culture knowledge gives an edge in Trivial Pursuit or Pictionary). 

If there’s one thing about myself that I’ve been told often enough to believe, it might be the observation that I’ve always been mature for my age. While this was likely more evident in my younger days when it was easier to appear level-headed and mature when juxtaposed with college fratboy-types, I’ve always wondered whether it was maturity born out of genetic hardwiring or simply the byproduct of filial piety, Catholic upbringing and ultimately, a pitiful weekly allowance (youthful recklessness was often expensive and having little money as a teen meant having to find cheaper, but often more constructive ways off passing time).

You spend most of your early years wanting to grow up as soon as possible and the irony of adulthood is realizing what a shit deal it is. 

As my twentysomethings dwindle out, it’s pretty obvious that I’m more intent on regressing as the years go by, as if to make up for fast-tracking adulthood way too early on. While my peers are starting businesses, getting married, having kids and deliberating on various shades of wallpaper and furnishing, I’ve spent most of my time wondering whether I’ve missed out on some of the cheaper thrills of youth like listening to shitty bass-drenched music, practicing poor personal hygiene and the like.

All of a sudden, I find myself in the awkward zone between kidult and whatever else is beyond that stage in life, struggling to cling on to the last vestiges of youth before it explodes in an unspectacular and underwhelming display of fireworks that spell out the word “O-L-D”. 

I’m not really sure what 2012 brings and the apathy settling in means I can’t really be arsed to think too far ahead. All I can think of now is how I probably owe it to myself to make up for all those lost weekends with a hardcore diet of video games (FIFA 12, Uncharted 3, Skyrim, Arkham City), TV shows (Mad Men S2 - S4, Ugly Americans S2) and my obscene pile of comics purchased, but not read.

Long story short: I’ve been working really hard just so video games can ruin my life for the next 3 months or so. And then when Diablo 3 launches, things get really bad.

Until then.