I’ve been thinking a lot about aging lately.
Part of it is closing in on the halfway mark to my birthday. (It’s September the 13th, in case you want to mark your calendar now).
But a lot of it is all these metaphoric Post-It Notes that have been popping up on the metaphoric mirrors of my life lately.
Delightful reminders like the sponge cake around my middle (which, on the bright side, has qualified me as a blood donor for the first time ever—free OJ & cookies!!).
Or the ten minutes I spent in my Toastmasters meeting a couple of weeks back trying desperately to pull the word “malapropism” from my ganky-ass RAM after hearing “exacerbate” get swapped out for “exasperate” for the third time.
Or the fact that my college roommate has a son who is going to be a third-generation legacy when he enters college…next year.
And a lot of clothes that I swear to you were perfectly fine even six months ago?
There’s a window of about 20 years where you look like a total tool if you wear ironic tees, and I seem to have been defenestrated in my sleep. Which concerns me, because I will not be 70 for another 23 years, and SXSW is next week. What am I supposed to do, go to the UX panels naked? My sponge cake will show!
It is weird, having this age thing happen seemingly overnight. I realize that everyone has this moment in front of the mirror (except the lucky few who have a portrait stashed in the closet—let me know how that plays out for you). I just got to put mine off for an unreasonably long time.
I never had kids, for one. I live in the land of No Seasons with Which to Mark One’s Death March to Invisibility. Hell, I live in L.A. and I’m not hot or rich—I’ve been invisible since I got here, 16 years ago.
And mostly, I don’t mind being old any more than I mind being invisible (although I’d quite like to be rich, as I’ve heard it affords one a great deal of freedom.) Like my pal, precocious codger Jim Garner, I kind of enjoy being an elder, or, in codger-speak, an old coot. I have always rounded up, claiming the next birthday’s age shortly after the new calendar year begins. It makes things incredibly confusing on my actual birthday, as I am bad at math and my parents, bad at planning. I mean, would it have been that hard to meet a year earlier and have me in 1960?
No, I don’t exactly mind the idea of being old—I am just not crazy about the getting there.
I would like to skip ahead to the part where I have a full head of snowy white hair like Mom. To the part where I’ve already done 20 years of yoga and am this lithe, inspiring, elder-model type who takes a lover 15 years her junior. And maybe female. You know—just because.
Basically, to the part where the young part of me is long gone rather than slipping away by degrees, and the old me is this fabulous, rock-’em-sock-’em me unimaginable to me now, much less actualizable.
I am not young anymore, except to old people. I am not old yet, except to young people. Just like being born into this crazy non-Boomer, not-quite-Gen-X cohort, I cannot quite parse myself yet, and I gotta tell you, it’s a little irksome. Like that deep, phantom itch I get in the library that won’t disappear no matter how hard I rub my shoulderblades across a corner of the stacks.
On the other hand, this is a perfect frame of mind in which to sail into the aforementioned SXSW: not quite sure, a little on the wobbly side, with lots of cracks for old stuff to leak out of and new stuff to sneak into. Last time I went, I was wobbly because it was new to me and I was new to the internets and on top of everything else, as it turned out, I was sliding into a Crohn’s flare. This time, it will just be wacky, wobbly me, seeing a few familiar faces, meeting a few People Behind the Handles, sucking down some of that SCD-legal Tito’s, having my head cracked open.
As long as I remember my vitamins, I think it should be fine.
Provided I can get my hands on a few plain t-shirts…
xxx
c
Image by master of felix via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.
{ 15 comments }
You’re far from old, but since this is a youth-culture, you can’t win playing the youth card. For us, the only solution is to remain cooler than the young, even with the cholesterol pills. That cannot be taken away.
Now why is Tito’s SCD-legal and other vodkas aren’t?
Neil – You’re right: trying to out-young the young is a fool’s game. And I’ve seen the fools to prove it!
All vodkas are SCD-legal, as far as I know. I was trying to make the point that I could get hammered legally. Which I could not on, say, Bacardi (at least the dark kind) or Kahlua.
Although I do believe I’d rather stay sober indefinitely than get try to get hammered on Kahlua.
The situation that’s most ripe for creativity is the situation where you don’t have a lot of preconceived notions. Think about it: even as an actor, when you don’t “anticipate,” your work is fresher.
You are what you are. You’ve lived this long and you have your own experience. You don’t need to know what your next experience is going to be, because you have what’s behind you to prepare you for it.
You wouldn’t want to skip ahead. Middle age is a blast. You receive the reverence of maturity without people assuming you’re feeble.
Trust me, I speak from experience. Ha!
Dear Communicatrix:
Having cracked the half century mark not that long ago, I have come to the conclusion that age does not matter much for most things. That is not, by the way, to say that I don’t think about it, I do. But really don’t you think that you are what age you are and the bigger, more important question is are we making the most of what we have right here and now no matter the age? Especially since that is the only place you can be and nothing, no amount of posing to the public or to the audience inside our heads, will change that.
I really enjoy your writing. Just the right amount of snarky comments, interesting thoughts, and humor.
Petrea – Reverence!? Sign me up! I have always wanted to be revered.
I think you may be right about this being a time of robust creativity. All signs seem to point that way. And I really wouldn’t want to skip ahead. Maybe I’ll even suck it up and let my gray grow in naturally.
Thanks for the “hey” from (ever-so-slightly) down the road.
Dean – I am pleased to hear it! I do look forward to 50, although I know it’s important to Be Here Now. And for the most part, I’m pretty good w/ where I am. It is just a little strange to see so many things I’m *done* with seemingly all at once. I haven’t been to a club in years, for example, and would be fine if I never did again. Ditto movies at night (too crowded), stores on the weekend (ditto), and anything that requires special clothing (for reasons I’m guessing will be self-evident).
Thanks for the sweet words about my writing. You keep liking it and I’ll keep writing it, okay?
I laughed at the undeniable truth in the 20-year span of toolness in ironic tees. Yeah it’s tough to be hot at this age but we can’t exactly bemoan it when we did so much to refuse it in those early years. I remember a MUCH-older (probably 50) fellow female grad student who commented on the sad passing of her youthful beauty. I responded, “Oh bring it on. The sooner it goes, the better life’ll be. Such a distraction.” (I was 30 at the time, when wishing time forward didn’t cost anything.) Today it’s crepe eyelids, graying hair, age spots and the start of serious wrinkle activity, not to mention menopause mayhem. You remain a rock star, without the white hair, without the 20-something lover of either gender, because you invested in wisdom, that thing that gets better with age. So why not just own it? Don’t you see that you’re writing those ironic tee’s? Remember “Tits and ass are not a retirement plan”?? Isn’t that irony? Can’t remember any more.
Being hot as a middle-aged woman is just a different kind of hotness. It’s that “already done 20 (okay, maybe 2) years of yoga…lithe, inspiring, elder-model type” of hotness. Not every guy wants it. But some do, even some very young ones. And how many do you need?
It has less to do with looks than with brains and confidence at this point. That’s what I always said I wanted when I was younger. Of course when I was younger, I was chubby…
“and I’m not hot”
I think you are beautiful and I would do ya!! Wait..did I just say that out loud?
“What am I supposed to do, go to the UX panels naked?”
Well…..yeah!! Nudity is always acceptable especially after the age of 45.
“elder-model type who takes a lover 15 years her junior. And maybe female. You know—just because.”
May I be the first to vote for a video blog???
Mary Ellen – I remember you saying that, about “bring it on!” And I remember agreeing. Oh, the folly of youth. Good thing we had youth to balance out all the folly.
I should work that up into tshirts. I would call it an UNironic tshirt, however.
And you can’t remember any more because…you’re old! ;-)
Petrea – Agreed! It’s a quieter kind, for sure. And my focus issues have always precluded having more than one dude at a time.
I will enjoy being quietly sexy! Especially if I get to have white hair. (Hey, what can I say? I have Venus in Leo; my hair is always going to be an issue for me.)
steffy – Haha! I may have to think about naked video. I have a feeling I’d be guaranteed a certain number of subscribers, no matter what I looked like.
You’re perfect the way you are C, granted I don’t know you on a personal level you’re a beautiful woman, what you bring to the table here is AWESOME, you make people laugh, think and talk about their issues out in the open, NICE job! Just imagine what you can do with the next 50!
I think many of us can relate to what you’re going through, whether or not we’re nearing the 50 mark.
I had a “gentleman” that wanted to meet me from church, he was handsome, looked pretty young and knew a cousin of mine. When he said he wanted to meet me, you know what her response was…”She’s old enough to be your mom”! I wanted to cry, this guy was 19…I’m in my mid 30′s! I could actually be his mom! (insert crying face here)
Those that are older than me call me a young pup and those that are in their teens think I’m over the hill, I guess we can’t win BUT, as long as we feel young, play young….there’s no stopping us from having FUN!
Just in case you all didn’t know, C has a birthday coming up……..
September 13th to be exact, a little birdie told me! Pull out the Post-It’s and plaster them around the house.
YOU DA BOMB C!
Angie – Aw, you’re swell. And very hot! But mainly, you’re swell. Thanks.
When you figure out how to fast forward to the full head of snowy white hair, will you share the secret with me before you start charging big bucks for it? It is one of the reasons I follow this blog: I want to find out how you finally resolve the hair color issue.
Jean – Haha! Yes, of course. You can be in the pilot program. A few of us might look a little bald for a while, but it’s all for a good cause, right?
To quote an old philosopher “Youth is wasted on the young”, and as for getting older it can become a little heartening when one is winded after ones 10 minute warm-up, but us older folk have endurance. I’m sure you’re more beautiful now then you were when you were younger. All the best C!
Karl – On the inside, yes! And you know, I think I’ve grown into my face. So I’ll even say I’ve improved on the outside. Thanks, Karl!
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