In a few short days, June 21, 2009, it will be exactly 10 years since I met the fiance. Ten. Years. TEN YEARS.
Take a moment. Process that. That’s fucking ridonkulous. I remember it oh-so-very-clearly too. That’s the scariest part. I remember it. I’m old enough to have crystal clear memories which occurred a decade ago.
Naturally, after realizing that, I had a mini existential crisis and then I realized that being old would make for good blog fodder, so here I am.
Until recently (read: two nights ago), I thought of myself as still very young. But I’m starting to think otherwise. Oh, I’m not waxing poetic about middle age and I’m not about to go into menopause, but I’m not a little kid anymore. This is a rather ironic reality, as I’ve never really felt younger than I currently do, whereas people no longer see me as a kid.
How do I know this? Let me tell you.
–First of all, I have no fucking idea who these Jonas Brothers kids are. They could walk up to me and punch me in the face and I wouldn’t recognize them. I have no idea what their names are. Jim, Bob and Jim-Bob, for all I care. What’s the big deal with them? I don’t get it.
–Second, I haven’t read the Twilight books. I haven’t seen the Twilight movies. I have seen Robert Whatshisface in person, though I didn’t realize it at the time. When I was in Texas, he was visiting a mall I was shopping in and I couldn’t understand who he was.
– Three, when I wake up in the mornings I usually think ‘Ow, my [insert random body part here, though chances are it will be my neck and/or back]’
– Four, when I walk by groups of high school boys, nobody catcalls me. Unless they’re particularly obnoxious. But this makes me feel very old, very relieved, cuz really, I hate catcalls, but old nonetheless.
– Five, I talked to a FINANCIAL ADVISOR the other day, to discuss my MUTUAL FUNDS. What. The. Hell.
– Six, I still like CD’s. I don’t download music. I don’t like these kids with their ipods blaring on the train. Keep that noise down, you rascals!
– Seven, I care about the economic meltdown. I do. It frightens me. You know why? Cuz I have bills to pay, dammit! Like an old person.
– Eight, I thank my lucky stars every day that I don’t go to high school nowadays. Can you imagine having to go through that hell all day long, and then have it continue at night on facebook and twitter? Uh. No thanks.
– Nine, I remember PHONING people. I remember NOT HAVING an email account. I remember having to go to the library to look things up. I remember using a phone book. I do not remember how I survived in those clearly archaic times.
– Ten, I am closer to 30 than I am to 20. I’m not okay with that.
– Eleven, everyone around me is having babies. Since when did my generation become the one that’s procreating? Weren’t we just sitting around playing Super Nintendo while wearing our gimp bracelets?
– Twelve, I don’t understand hip hop. I don’t. I don’t know why kids now refuse to speak in proper English. I don’t know why kids wear such wacky stuff. They’re strange human beings, from another land it seems. I feel like how old people used to feel about me.
– Thirteen, I am still appalled by the fact that children who don’t have their licenses have cell phones.
– Fourteen, I have become my parents. I am stuck believing that the best music EVER made was from my teenage years. Just like every old person does. Dammit.
I AM the old people.
I have turned into Grandpa Simpson. I find myself walking along, thinking, “I don’t like the looks of those teenagers”
“I used to be ‘with it’, but then they changed what ‘it’ was. Now what I’m with isn’t ‘it’, and what’s ‘it’ seems weird and scary.”