At 30 I pierced my ear; a decade later my earring felt awkward so I stopped wearing it

This story is not some profound attempt to document how I have evolved and matured as an adult male. It’s just a note looking at one of my life’s mini-journeys.

Ultimately the earing chapter of my life was about music. Yes, music. Coming from someone who can’t play any instrument; who can’t sing. You don’t want to hear me sing. My ear for music is nonexistent. Or is it? My love for pop music knows no limits. In my car, at home, when running, when falling asleep, whenever — there is music playing. And nothing, nothing is off-limits for me. I can listen to the stuff from the sixties, and I can enjoy music that’s in the charts today. I’m proud to have discovered some now-well-known artists when they were young. Twenty-one Pilots for example. Or check out this post from 2015. I expressed my appreciation of the legend — David Bowie. A couple of weeks later he died.

I could’ve made a good music producer in some parallel universe!

So one day — I forget the exact year now — but I was approaching 30, I cut my workday short and went to a local beauty salon in Moscow and got my ear pierced. The urge was really strong. For years I then wore a small stud, either a dark one or with a small diamond. My friends gave me looks. Cambridge, Harvard, investment…