Thirty-three.

Thirty-three.

There’s a nice symmetry to it. There’s also really nice spiritual symbolism behind it, what with it being God’s number and the Holy Trinity vibe. It’s also how old I am today, and that’s got to count for something.

Maybe it’s because of this symmetry and symbolism that I’ve been thinking a lot about being thirty-three and about the next year - something I really don’t do very often.

You see, thirty-two was quite a bipolar year. The highs have been high, the lows have been dismal. Since my last birthday I:

• Got a new job, and then lost it 11 months later when that position was made redundant;

• Applied for and got appointed into a new job, a promotion of sorts;

• Watched my little girl go from being a cute squishy blob to being a cute toddler who’s completely taken over my heart;

• Saw my wife grab her career by the scruff of her neck and make me endlessly proud by taking up a new job;

• Traveled to Iran, of all places; and

• Witnessed a colleague lose their job.

I’ve had crisis’ of confidence, questioned my abilities and wondered - sometimes aloud - whether my head was in the right space. I’ve laughed. I’ve stressed. I’ve gotten fat (and started trying to reverse that). I’ve felt pride, mostly because I think I’m doing okay at this whole dad thing. Thirty-two was a year I won’t forget. But it’s a year where I didn’t achieve as much a would have liked.

Thirty-three. I want it to be different. I want to make a difference.

So instead of the whole New Year’s resolution thing, I’m setting myself 33 goals for thirty-three. The list has been completed. I won’t share them just yet, but when I turn 34 I’ll update you on all of them.

Today I turned thirty-three. Cheers.