From young blood to high blood

It seems like only yesterday when strangers would routinely call me 'boy' by mistake even long after my 20s and even well through my 30s. Now almost everyone addresses me 'Sir.'

Shall I say to myself, congratulations, welcome to the 50s?

In cultural heritage law, 50 is considered antique. Or at least vintage. I am not sure how to take that.

People see a glass of water differently -- either as half-full or half-empty. A half-full look would say turning 50 is is like turning half a century old, while a half-empty look would say turning 50 is getting nearer and nearer to the unmentionables but inevitables.

Another look -- the Christian perspective -- combines both glass views, which are both correct: Turning 50 is getting nearer and nearer one's date with God in heaven. 

To be honest, I am not sure if my faith is mature enough to embrace this middle-ground view.

If I have to ask myself, the least I can say is that I have mixed feelings. It's a mixture of quizzical laments like, Where have all the years gone? and afterthoughts like, Well, I may lack a lot of things in life that my peers have in spades, but of course, I too have other accomplishments -- after all, I marched to the beat of my own drum.

At 50, I am alone, sad and lonely as I get overwhelmed with musings on the past especially the useless what-could-have-been's, but I am also thankful that I have survived and has come this far. 

Do I like myself better now than before? Definitely yes -- a resounding yes for many reasons. But it is still far away from what I want it to be at this point.