I Turned 40 Today
The Middle Ages
The Middle Ages
I turned 40 today. What does it feel like? The easiest one of the four so far:
10 was fun. On the day, I announced that I’d no longer be calling my parents “Mommy” and “Daddy.” I walked into the kitchen and said, “Hi, Mom.” “What happened to ‘Mommy’?” “Well, I’m ten years old now so you’re ‘Mom.’” Later, about 15 of my closest friends all went to Showbiz Pizza and I poked a hole in the bottom of my cup and asked for more Coke. I held the cup over my birthday cake and it ruined the entire thing. All the kids lost it. When an adult asked me why I would spoil my own cake, I replied, “Because everyone laughed.” Not much has changed.
20 was depressing. Not so much because my teens were over, but due to the fact that I was in the middle of my worst academic performance ever — at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland. This was the midst of second semester Sophomore Year. Instead of punishing myself like I had the year before, though, I bought myself a stereo. Half my life ago, I’d already realized that it’s important to celebrate life’s milestones. I also find that, as I get older, I have an increased desire to capture these moments. I’ve always been a writer but the act of laying down on paper (or screen) what I’m going through at the time.
30 was the worst. I’d accomplished everything I was “supposed” to: I held a Brand Management position at the world’s largest advertiser, I owned a house, I had a new car… and, while I was grateful for all of it, it wasn’t the life I wanted. Two months later, I moved to Los Angeles.
“Got a call from an old friend — we’d used to be real close
Said he couldn’t go on the American way
Closed the shop, sold the house, bought a ticket to the west coast
Now he gives them a stand-up routine in L.A.”
— Billy Joel
I blog a lot less now than I used to but even my longest posts generally took no more than 72 hours to post. About a year ago, I started writing, “On Happiness.” As March 7, 2016, approached, I thought it would be a nice thought to release 40 Things I’ve Learned by 40 or some other hackneyed format for the wisdom I’ve gained over the years. (At 40, I can write “wisdom” with no trace of irony.)
It remains a nice thought only as I haven’t finished it yet. I’ve rationalized myself into believing that, well, I wrote that in my 30s so, technically, the 40-year-old Rajiv should edit it so that it’s truly the work of a man in his fifth decade.
So, stay tuned. I plan to release it later this year.
As for now, what does 40 feel like? This is what’s going through my mind/heart/soul… and I’ll warn you that it’s long and kinda stream-of-consciousness. Here goes… in no particular order:
1. Well, I’m fortunate that I feel qualified to write a post on Happiness. It’s difficult to imagine a life in which I’d be happier. Knock on wood but I have everything I could ask for. We lose sight of it often but just being born and raised in the United States is an absolutely insane blessing. #geographyisdestiny
2. The TEDx Talk opportunity on Saturday allowed me to be in my hometown of Cincinnati this past weekend. I was initially annoyed that Leap Year placed my birthday on a Monday but it gave me the entire weekend with my parents. Besides, turning 40 on a Monday somehow seems appropriate. I got to celebrate with my close Cincinnati friends on Saturday night. Then my parents had their (which of course are also “our”) friends over for a Sunday lunch. Tonight, I’m meeting up with my LA friends. And last night, I got to spend time with my wife. As I said in my one-minute speech (I’ve learned since my marathon wedding speech) at my parents’, ~“Thank God for Harsha Satyal or this would’ve been really depressing.”
To have married the Love of My Life is beyond my wildest dreams.
3. On any given day, I look at my To Do list every few hours and 95% of it consists of things I actually want to do. Most people cannot say that. Some people’s really is, “Find enough food to survive till tomorrow.” I’m aware of this every single day.
Being a total weirdo has its advantages. So, sometimes I’m walking to the kitchen in my apartment and I’m thankful that I have legs to carry me there. Maybe that’s lame. I don’t know. Well, actually it’s the opposite of lame. But you feel me.
4. I suppose things always could be better but they could be a lot worse. In fact, if I imagine a scale of Heaven to Hell, I’d have to be much closer to Heaven than Hell. (Hindus don’t believe in a separate Heaven and Hell; it’s here on Earth and your Karma determines your experience.)
5. That’s not to say that I don’t have goals. We hope to buy a house this year. Will we be happier for it? Probably. I can say that my projections of my own happiness based on what I get are remarkably accurate. I’ve read a lot about people who finally get what they want and still aren’t happy. I’ll elaborate in my forthcoming post but the short of it is that these people aren’t terribly self-aware. If you don’t know yourself, you’re bound to chase things that absolutely won’t fulfill you.
Here’s the cool part: Harsha and I, whilst out looking at open houses, happened upon a sign that directed us to a home that we later learned was listed at $2.9 million. We put on our best hey-we’re-internet-millionaires hats and took the tour. Ray Romano was playing tennis in his backyard, immediately behind this house. The realtor asked me if I knew him and I said that I actually have a Ray Romano story but, no, don’t interrupt him. I later said to Harsha, “You do realize that we could buy this house — just not here in LA.” That was an amazing realization, even if the locale where we could afford this place is probably in Alabama.
That’s the thing about life: the toys you want now are costlier than the ones you wanted before. If only buying all the Transformers out there could make me happy.
6. I guess the positive is that I could buy toys for our kids, if we’re so blessed. I do think that becoming parents would make us more complete, too. It’d be nice to receive a child’s love.
7. This year, I hope to lose my gut. And learn Transcendental Meditation. (So, maybe gain my gut.)
8. I have an amazing family — on both sides… my wife’s and mine. I have the best friends in the world. And I’m fortunate that my career is my life’s work.
9. There are challenges and struggles, of course. Though I don’t often let it show, being this far away from where I grew up isn’t always easy. However, my friend, Alok, alleviated this anxiety but once telling me that, really, we’re only a direct flight away from home — at any given point in time, I can be back in Cincinnati the same day or the next. That’s comforting.
10. My friendships have had their ups and downs. I’ve let my anger get the best of me more often than I would’ve liked. The good news is that, over the last two years, I’ve really gotten ahold of it. It’s still there but it’s much less severe and much less frequent.
Besides, in every single case, despite any fallings-out, I’ve always, without fail, not only patched up my friendships but also got closer to those friends as a result of what we went through. Indeed, if we haven’t had one yet, call me up and tell me that you’re voting for Ted Cruz or something so that I can yell at you and we can make up and be closer for it.
11. Everyday, I read a poem called, “Desiderata.” One of its pieces of advice is, “Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.” I love how that sounds. I’m glad to be middle-aged. I’m certainly not a young person anymore. In fact, though I still have much more energy than most people my age, I’m often struck by anyone over 35 who still thinks s/he’s young. You can be young at heart forever — even at 100. I’m not taking that away from you. But around 40 is the definition of middle age. I’m at the point now that if I ask people what kind of music they listen to and they say, “It’s a band called-,” I can interrupt and say, “Yeah, I don’t know them.”
12. I let this post naturally flow, hence the length. Organically, discussing my career has come last, whatever that may mean. Could it be going better? Of course. If you would’ve told me that I’d be in Los Angeles for ten years and only have done a couple of Walgreens commercials, a spot on a Bill Bellamy show, and a quick appearance on Nickelodeon, I wouldn’t have believed you. I dreamed much bigger than that. By all fair metrics, I have failed in the Industry. I mean, I have a manager, an agent, and I became a regular at almost all the major comedy clubs rather quickly. But it’s difficult to claim a major degree of success. The empowering bit is that most of what I’ve achieved I’ve done without the Industry. I wouldn’t say “on my own,” as I have a lot of YOU to thank for where I am. However, I pivoted away from comedian | writer | actor to comedian | host | speaker and that has been a good move. (Besides, what’s a “pivot” besides a fancy start-up word for “fail”?) Again, it’s difficult to believe I’d be any happier if I were “bigger.” Maybe I would be; maybe I wouldn’t be. I have balance; I get to do my Year of The Hustle everyday.
Just as Harsha saved my personal life from being miserable, the I AM INDIAN video has been a quintessential experience. I receive notes literally everyday about it — and it dropped in August 2014. How few people in this world will ever make something seen ’round the world? I can’t even brag about it because the magnitude of it is so large that I can only be humbled by it. I’ve achieved my goal of “leaving the world with something positive” — that’s astounding.
Beyond that, there’s no reason to believe that I can’t become a talk show host this year and still host the Oscars at the age of 50.
13. So, there are lots of ways to put today. My 30s are over. I’m halfway done. That last one is tough because a.) it may not be true and b.) it’s not a good feeling — or thought — to think of yourself in the second half. Besides, I’ve kind of always known I’ll make it to 88 or so. (Knock on wood.)
14. The best way I can put it is that I’m 40, I’m happy, and this has been the easiest 10-year increment yet. I can live with that.
#RajivSatyal40