In a handful of days, I turn 50. It's a fact. Yes, yes, I know, it's better than the alternative, but I have to say, it's fucking with me... not all of the time, but during those moments when my guard is down.
It does not compute. 50 is my parents' age. 50 belongs to my aunts and uncles, or older siblings. I'm the baby of the family, how can I be 50???
Not to mention the fact that I'm still fighting inner wars and dramas from 15, 24, 32, 45... and probably more. Parts of me are caught up. Parts of me relish all I know now... the calm I have about certain areas of my life, but there are still parts of me that are panicking, thinking, WAIT!!! I'M NOT DONE YET!!! To be honest, in some ways, I haven't even started! But, if you're a female in the world, your shelflife is short... unless you move to the crone section. I'm allergic to dust. I don't want to move there.
Don't get me wrong... I don't need to be 25. I'm glad I'm not 25. I'm glad my children are growing and thriving and don't need me as much, OR... need me in newer, more wonderful ways, but still... 50.
I'm glad my creativity is loving that I'm 50. Although I'm no longer on the hip train of things, I see things and get things like never before, but still... 50.
My eyes are not what they were, my hair is not what it was, oh hell... nothing physical is what it was... and yet I feel like I finally understand things or have perspective on things I never have, but the joke is, it's too late. I've heard it a million times... "Oh! If only I knew what I knew now, but when I was younger!"
Don't get me wrong. It doesn't bother me every day. It has not crippled me, but... there is a large part of me that is wondering how it happened... it's so easy to get lost in the minutiae of a day... and then another... and another, and before you know it, you're looking at those days from the other end and it freaks you out... if only for a moment.
I also know that I'll look back on this in 10, or 20 years, and will laugh. HA! You were ONLY 50!
Grizzled and I celebrated our 20th anniversary last week. While cleaning out a closet, I found a video his father had made of part of our rehearsal, our rehearsal dinner and a snippet of the reception. Somehow, we both had missed this. Somehow, it came into our possession and we had no clue! We watched it the other day, for the first time... watching people who are no longer here, people who were so much vibrant and younger. We looked at ourselves. When I looked at my 20 yr-younger self, all I could think of was, "WHAT WAS YOUR PROBLEM!??! YOU WERE FINE! WHY DID YOU LISTEN TO EVERY ASSHOLE WHO HAD A COMPLAINT?" I'm trying to tell myself that now... so I don't look back in 20 years and think, come on... life was good! You're with people you like and love! Doing more or less things you like and love! So what if your boobs are past their perky date! So what if your ass is huge! So what if you have not achieved all you want to achieve! Thank gawd you haven't! You have years to live! Years to thrive! Shut the fuck up and embrace this!
I know this. Deep down I know this...
But man... there are days when I'd like to take this back to 25... or 35... and try it knowing what I do now. I knew it then. I believe I did. I just listened to too many others, like most of us do.
Maybe I'll get myself some celebratory earplugs. :)
... I've met in the flesh. Last weekend's meeting was no exception. I had the fortune of seeing this person's show on Saturday, and as if that weren't enough, I had the added bonus of accompanying her out for drinks and conversation. Conversation with her was nothing new, but conversation in person was. It was a bit surreal. Oh the places we go...
Other surreal things?? Teaching women of a certain age on Wednesdays, only to find out that my Thursday class mainly consists of 13 yr-old boys. I'm not sure which group will be the one to push me over the edge. My humor is probably more consistent with the 13 yr-old boys, but as the authority figure, I'm not supposed to say any of it.
Other things that might or might not be surreal?? Life is busy right now and most of my blogging time/energy is going into my sketchbook. I have renewed patience for creative endeavors these days, but it seems to have taken a toll on my patience for mankind. I have little of that, so it's probably best I'm blogging less. Asses are caloric and I don't need to be chewing them.
I've been waylaid over the past 36 hours by sinus pain of the gods. I haven't had it like this in a while, but blame record level pollen and a weather roller coaster that soars into the 90's only to plunge into the low 40's... high pressure, low pressure, high pressure, low pressure. My head gave up and so did I. I took lot of sinus medicine, something I don't really like to do, and crawled to my bed... trying to read, trying to sleep, trying to watch some TV. I've had some interesting conversations with myself. A few one-sided ones with the dogs, who were more than happy to share bed space in the middle of the day! I don't know if they get sinus headaches. If they do, they're better at managing the really bad ones than I am. I can't wag my tail and a smile hurts. I also wonder if a dog can be in a bad mood. Sure, they can be angry, they can be scared, but they don't hold grudges, they don't spew crap, they just are what they are... usually fuzzy bundles of goodness... happy for whatever is in front of them whether it's a ball, a favorite human, a fallen piece of food, a scent on the grass, or a whole scenery of scent blowing in the window. I had the window cracked for a bit, thinking fresh air might help my head, and I loved watching the dogs catch a whiff of what was going on out there. You could see them actually catagorizing it all. It was like they were watching a movie with their noses... I wanted to see a printout of every little molecule they were deciphering and what it meant to them. OK, I was actually jealous of their ability to inhale large quantities of air without pain...
After 40-some years of living with dogs, I am still amazed at their ability to just be. This is who I am (I know... what I am... but to me, they're a who) take me or leave me. I will not change my hair, I will not change my size, I will not bark like a different breed, I will not even think about how I stack up against a different breed. I will just be, and I will revel in it. You can enter me into competitions that tell me if I'm superior or not, but that's for you. It doesn't mean a thing to me. I will just be happy here... going along for the ride that is life. Scratch my rump and I'll be even happier.
People have said it in many different ways, but I'll say it again... it'd be a happier world if we took a few more lessons from dogs. I should take a lesson and be happy where I am... and I kind of am... I'm getting to spend bonus time in my island of a bed, but I mean where I live... not the people I live with. I love and like them, but the damn place where I live. The place that seems to have a pole stuck up it's ass and demands that you do the same if you want to fit in.
I wonder how many people are naturally happy with a pole stuck up their ass. Really. I mean it. How many people chose that? I know I have met some people who were definitely born with an inserted pole and they seem happy that way. More power to them... but the rest of us?? At some point we buy into the fact that we're supposed to have one, and if we don't actually have one, by gawd, you'd better act like it. Don't act as if you can move freely about your world, reveling in your choices... no... follow some strict "pole up your ass" code. It will make everyone happier... or does it?
I feel like I am surrounded by a sea of discontent... people think they're kind of happy, but they're not. They're just trying to do what they think is expected of them and then find out that usually bites them in the ass as well. Do what your parents say, do what your school says, do what your peers expect, do what the village code demands, do what your boss demands... remember, if it's wet and it's not yours... don't touch it... I'm tired of it. What's going to happen if we didn't volunteer to stick that pole up our asses?? I'm guessing not much, but I think everyone would be happier. Everyone would be happier if they weren't spending so much time wondering if they've got the right car in the driveway or if they're asked to the right parties, or worrying that they've got the damn clover out of their yard... and they probably wouldn't worry about spending a sick day or two in bed... hanging out with the dogs... the dogs who have no poles up their asses and are so at ease with themselves that they'll crap on your lawn, even if someone is watching.
No... I don't want to crap on the lawn... but maybe I'd like to metaphorically crap on the lawn a little bit more than I do. Things seemed screwed up these days, on any number of levels... I think we'd be a little better of if we removed the poles from our asses and let the country go to the dogs.
About a week ago, a blogging friend sent me a YouTube link via email and said, "I thought you could post it since you seem to be posting only videos these days."
I suppose he was right, but posts just don't seem to be rolling out like they used to, or if I do write something, I usually end up not posting it... not sure what's up with that. Anyhow, I was thinking, if I just keep posting videos, I'll soon have every video that's posted on YouTube and I'll slowly become YouTube. I'll probably get better traffic, and will have to do 99% less work.
This is actually the song that's been stuck in my head for most of the week...
And a small aside that has nothing to do with music: If you're going to be out of town on a Friday night, and you leave your alarm clock at home... do not leave it set to go off at 5AM. Even the dogs thought it was too early...
Update: Side effects of an alarm clock going off somewhere in the house at 5AM on a Saturday morning have been erased by Mr. Thundra. Many thanks.
Our weather has been so bizarre, I have no idea what month it is. My logical brain responds to what the calendar says... my reflexive brain responds to external cues. Daffodils are done, it must be May. Grass needs to be cut twice a week, it must be June. My senses are telling me it could be any day in a 3 month period, but the other night... after a day of extreme warmth, I smelled summer. I was bringing the dogs in when my nose picked up the smell of sweet, warm plants, warm asphalt... warm, warm, warm... It felt like it was July and I should be 16... and then it dawned on me... it's early April and I am not 16, but EL will be in a matter of days. I once again understood my father pondering how could he have a 40 yr-old child when he was only 40?? Only 40... Heh...
We seem to be back in April today, and work beckons... Onward!