Nobody tells you
Nobody tells you that growing older isn’t as fun as you thought it would be when you were 10. When you thought that 21 would be unbelievably old.
This body turned 29 yesterday. I look at its skin, especially the hands, and wonder what happens to make us get old? What happens that our machines just start wearing out?
Now mind you, I’m not crying and saying 29 is the end of the road. I feel no different than I did the day before that. It’s a psychological barrier, an artificial demarcation of time.
But at the same time, why could’nt I have the smooth skin of a child? Why can’t we keep that? Why do I constantly have to fight with dry skin on my hands, but not on my face?
I guess if we didn’t age, we’d all be young and stupid forever. I’d like to think I’ve gotten slightly less stupid over time.
But maybe not.
On that stupid question, why not poll your readers? I think we would all have interesting things to say about your intellectual limitations–atheism being the most obvious
Sorry for waking you up so darn early yesterday . . .
Hmph. Are you saying I’ve gotten slightly less stupid, except for the atheism, which continues to be very stupid?
I’d have to disagree with you there, sir.
But if anybody wants to, we can start a discussion on aging, and whether or not we feel any smarter/wiser? Or embarrassed by our past?
Do you look back at five, ten years ago, and ever reflect on that person? How much you’ve changed and grown?
What about one year ago? Anyone notice the difference there? Fascinating. Too bad about the machine breakdown that comes with age.
Maybe as we grow wiser, we grow less smooth, more complicated.
I am not necessarily ashamed of the person I was ten years ago, but I think I can see some things more clearly now than I saw at the time. If that makes any sense. Is that wisdom? If so, it does us little good, since what is past is uncorrectable. I think wisdom is being able to clearly see the present and from it, being able to forecast right action for the future. In that sense, I don’t think any of us are wise, least of all me.
Getting older is indeed a pain. I didn’t really feel much at thirty. I’d still say I don’t feel much about it. But that is a result of the oldest therapy known to man, intense repression. If I just refuse to think about it, it ain’t so
Aging’s a funny thing. When I was in college, I felt like a different person every year, just about. So much was changing, I was being challenged in so many ways, that just when I thought I had it figured out, something changed. I don’t know if that’s wisdom or fickleness. Now, I’m just convinced I’m getting more stupid with time.
I look back and reflect on the person I was. I just don’t know if that does me any good. I probably don’t entirely remember or understand her, memory being clouded by, well, time, and she certainly wouldn’t understand me today.
Good answers.
I just am interested in the different reflections we have on our younger selves. Happy to be who I am now, and like Heather, I’m not sure if I would understand the Mel of 10 years ago. And Matthew, in the repression vein, I think some of what I’m doing does happen to be trying to forget those things. Like going through some short stories I wrote 10 years ago in college my first time around. Wow. Not necessarily bad, but different. And I’m not the person who wrote them, or wrote very rude notes to her professor. I was giggling, because I didn’t remember how much rude bantering my creative writing professor and I would do, back and forth, in post-it form. I miss that guy. I wonder if I can find him somewhere, and see how he’s doing. He’s one of the most influential people from my college years.
I guess I also live in denial of getting older, if only because I still love video games, so very much. But since our generation grew up on video games, we don’t have to consider it kiddie stuff to grow out of.
[...] My body, as I reflected last year, is starting that downward decline. It probably started in my early twenties, actually, with the back pain. It doesn’t help that I have other problems which help pack on the pounds. And my hands, my face… They start to betray me. I don’t know what happens. It just happens so gradually. One day we’re babies, then kids thinking how long the school year is. I remember thinking that 21 was so old. I was sure I would die before then; that it’d be the end of the world. We’re teenagers. We’re cocky. We kn0w everything, and the world is full of possibilities. Most of us begin accepting responsibility in our twenties. Some of us know what we want to be when we grow up. Some people get married and find purpose in children or in jobs. [...]
[...] My body, as I reflected last year, is starting that downward decline. It probably started in my early twenties, actually, with the back pain. It doesn’t help that I have other problems which help pack on the pounds. And my hands, my face… They start to betray me. I don’t know what happens. It just happens so gradually. One day we’re babies, then kids thinking how long the school year is. I remember thinking that 21 was so old. I was sure I would die before then; that it’d be the end of the world. We’re teenagers. We’re cocky. We know everything, and the world is full of possibilities. Most of us begin accepting responsibility in our twenties. Some of us know what we want to be when we grow up. Some people get married and find purpose in children or in jobs. [...]