There's an alternate reality 70s movie called Logan's Run where everyone lives and dies within thirty years. If the light in your hand is green, everything is fine. If it is flashing, that means your time is almost up. If the light turns red, it's time to go to carousel and get yourself blown up in a big spectacle for the rest of the young society to enjoy. Tomorrow, the light in my hand turns red, and just like Logan, I'll be on the run.

With thirty years under my belt, I still don't have longing nostalgia for any period of my life. It took me well into my twenties to forgive myself and everyone else connected with my childhood. Now I take each day as it comes. I don't see far into the future, and I throw away the past on a regular basis.

There are things I'm doing now because I know I'm running out of time. When my buddies and I put together a rock band over a year ago, my thought was 'If we don't do this now, when will we?' After rocking out these past few months, I think we'll keep doing it until one of us breaks a hip. When kids tell me I'm old, I say 'That's right, I'm an Old Bean.'

The twenties were all over the place. I left my teens with a million questions that no one wanted to answer. I went to college and did what I was supposed to do. I graduated, got jobs, paid bills, and aspired to be a writer. I wrote novels, short stories, plays, A & E articles, movie reviews and anything else I thought people would want to read. I had brief, tumultuous and unsavory relationships with women. I took any drug on the table. Nervous break downs occurred at least once a year. Ah, the early twenties.

As I got into my the latter half of the decade, things began to calm down. My egocentrism dissipated a bit. This world wasn't all about me. I started getting involved at a local theatre called The Vortex. I began acting and directing. I realized the benefit of group projects. My third and latest directoral effort, "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest," closes tonight to a full house, and it will be the last official project of my twenties. Not a bad way to go out. I still have many questions going into my thirties, but now I know that no one will give me the answers. I have to find them out for myself.

So here's the real question. Is it better to succumb to the rules and report to carousel or buck the norm and run off into oblivion? If I called it a life right now, it wouldn't have been so bad. I stayed relatively healthy, I saw a lot of places, and did a lot of things. I wrote a ton of Internet columns, documenting my life and the world around me. I've met thousands of people and even made a few friends. If I blew up tomorrow in a big arena, there would be a sense of satisfaction about finishing the race in style.

Strangely enough, life doesn't end at 30. There is no light in my hand. There's no one following me. There is no reason to run. There is no Sanctuary.

I won't lie. I am getting older. I have no delusions about where it's all going. The body doesn't heal as quick, and the mind plays more tricks. I know that no one is going to challenge me to do anything anymore. If I don't push myself, society is content on me being a passive consumer. I can sit on my ass, watch TV for the rest of my life, and no one would tell me it's wrong.

The bottom line is this: I'm not done living yet. I won't hide my age like it's some terrible sin. I really didn't think I'd live to see this milestone, and with all that's happened in each decade of my life, I'm very interested to see what happens during the fourth installment.

By the time you read this, I will have crossed over into The Big 3-0. If you've got a quality beverage nearby, raise it up and give a toast to old Chris Jungle. If for no other reason, it's because he's still kicking, and so are you.

Chris Jungle needs more naps than in the past.