June 15, 2010
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Curmudgeon
I think I am really about 52. My driver's license says 39 (and a half), but I've never believed it. It's not feeling tired or obsolete or out-of-touch (I mean, it's not only that-lol), I just feel about a decade out of place. And my hair, no matter what I do with this new short cut, keeps settling into some matriarchal Laura Bush type thing. WHERE are the whimsical waves and sassy spikes that I gelled and blow-dried into place? And am I seriously wearing a girdle? Under my capris? Well nobody wants a 52-year-old-looking ass, not even a 52-year-old. But who actually wears one? Crap.
The 3 boyfriends with whom I got along best were all 10-15 years older than I. (I should have stayed in Texas with that first one.) The girlfriends who lasted I inherited from my mom, when she moved away, and are all much closer to her age than mine. I want to talk big picture, okay, not drama. I want to discuss retirement planning, not fucking American Idol, for Pete's sake. And of course, I took my first hit (and my first lover) at Woodstock when it was okay because everyone was doing it.
Okay, I'm kidding about Woodstock.
I got to go to a great concert on Sunday night; music I really like. I certainly felt old looking around at all the 20-somethings, maintaining carefully bored faces, bobbing their heads in time to the beat. But I felt no jealousy for that age, oh hell no. A brief prayer of gratitude for having survived it, yes. And I'm not oh-so above it all. I bobbed my head right along with them, but with a big, stupid grin on my face, because I dig the groove, man. And I got nobody to impress.
I remember talking to my mom in high school about feeling old. She said that's normal for teenagers. No one feels like they fit in.
"When does that feeling go away?" I remember asking.
"Sometimes," she said. I waited for more of the answer, but that was it.
Sometimes,
We fit in our places, smiles on our faces, moving through darkness in time to the beat.
But often we slip from the novacaine drip and wake up to the morning sun's heat.
That warmth that can feed us, direct us and lead us
Can be instead eyes, ever probing for lies, to judge and then claim our defeat.
Comments (3)
you're not alone! I'm older than you (41... and 3/4), and I can relate to so much of this. The retirement planning, etc. haha. When I was teaching college I could not even *relate* to the teens/20-somethings - blergh - much less wish to be there again - no way. As for girdles... we call them "spanx," right? It sounds sexier
I'm assuming that I'm not on the list of gf's because I left?? You need to come on a kiddo free trip to see me. My core group of friends ranges from 34-45. No kids. Indie music, shenanigans, lots of wine drinking, Burlesque, more shenanigans, the BEACH...we would have a blast!!!
I *very much* like the way this ends.
I think you feel older due to you have had a great many more challenges put before you than a lot of people (it makes great narrative to read your blog, but I'm sure it's a PITA to live some of it)
I've been *old* all my life, so I understand what you are saying. I don't believe that feeling ever really goes away, some of us are just old souls.
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