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I turned thirty-six today. What does that mean? It’s one number higher than thirty-five, and I’m definitely Thirty-Something And Over It. It’s four years removed from a huge midlife crisis I can clearly see coming and hitting hard. It’s not old. But it’s not young anymore.

It’s significantly less impressive than the Super NES that turns thirty this month. I’m as old as Mario—technically, a month older—but Nintendo purposely makes its iconic character look younger with each generation! After a long hard look in the mirror, it’s safe to say that nobody is doing that to me. It’s a me, Wouter-o! I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll skip the jump with my fist up in the air, my back is starting to hurt. Just imagine it. I’ll probably curse and say ouch afterwards. Also, my thinning hair looks miserable compared to Mario’s luscious curls. Who knows what’s hidden under that hat.

What else might be more interesting than the birthday of a brain baker?

  • The Game Boy Advance turned twenty this year (March in US, June in EUR);
  • Thirty-six years ago, French and American divers discovered the Titanic wreck;
  • Thirty-six years ago, the Bende van Nijvel (Brabant Killers) committed an armed robbery that ultimately resulted in sixteen deaths and shocked Belgium for years to come;

Let’s continue on a more positive note. While today’s activities were far from special, I did get to take the bike for a spin, rummage through a box of Magic cards, read a chapter in David Edding’s Ruby Knight, get angry at our new kitten’s destructive behavior, baked waffles (using the quatre-quarts formula, Peter!)—did you know cats smell like they raided a bakery afterwards?—and of course, write a short blog post. I tried to keep my inbox closed and failed. I did not buy myself anything: we have too much stuff. Although, come to think of it, I’d like one present: for my wife to also be an avid follower of The Minimalists—says the retro collector. Gotta get that consume-produce economy going! I clearly played too much Race for the Galaxy lately.

Keep on dreaming. Perhaps when I turn thirty-seven?

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I'm Wouter Groeneveld, a Brain Baker, and I love the smell of freshly baked thoughts (and bread) in the morning. I sometimes convince others to bake their brain (and bread) too.

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