Very, Very Many Years of Living

Aging stinks. “You’re only as old as you feel” as the saying goes. Unfortunately that cuts both ways when you feel older than you actually are (“Off the lawn”, You know the drill). When I was 18 I could work a double shift on three hours of sleep and a diet of nothing but Mountain Dew and Slim Jims. Now I wake up sore because the prior day I climbed stairs. Once.

Getting old sneaks up on you. I don’t remember the point in my life when I started classifying walking as exercise, but now I have a pair of shoes specifically for that purpose. Have you ever had that fish-slap-in-the-face moment when you realize you just said something to your kids that made you cringe when your parents said it to you? These days I catch myself channeling things my grandparents used to say.

To make matters worse I work in a field dominated by whiz kids. To whit, I found out recently I’m a decade older than the median age at my current job — a first in my very, very many years of living. Not that I ever compared my age to a statistical median of the ages of my coworkers in any of the other jobs I have had (see blog title).

I don’t remember where I was going with this post, and my eyes are too tired to reread the first paragraph. I think I will just ramble incoherently about random annoyances until it’s time to take my meds. If you turn down that garbage you kids call music and pay attention you whippersnappers might learn something.

  • The Cloud. I had a lengthy screed about how much I hate that term, but attempting to write it out inflamed my aneurysm to near-hemorrhage levels. Also I forgot most of it. Trust me though — it was good.
  • Start ups that end their company or service with “ly”. I don’t know if this is still a thing but I will always think less of a company that does this. How does this go down in the product development phase?

    “We are, in essence, a delivery mechanism. Lets call our product Delivery”
    “Wait, hold on. I have a brilliant idea! Lets call it Deliveryly!”.
    * Everyone gasps and falls down, overwhelmed *.

  • Not everyone lives their life twitching between ten social networks while streaming today’s bagel topping. if someone is just a “Facebook friend” they are one step away from being someone you could give a crap about. If you can’t take the time to get to know someone outside of the crushing confines of likes and comments, calling them your friend does a disservice to the word. Look up from your phone once in a while, get a nice shoe shine, and head over to the speak easy. But if you do, for the love of Pete stay off my damn lawn.
  • The future may be mobile but I’ve got news for you sonny: the future is not now. I’m sure I’m not the only die-hard technophile with outdated computers running 2.2 series Linux kernels and Arduino hardware with infrared sensors to monitor the perimeter of my lawn for intruders.

    Maybe that’s an extreme example but I think there is a point in there somewhere. For the record I’m not currently doing that, but I could, and if you kids keep it up I swear to God I might.

  • I’m a big fan of expedience. For example I’m doing several other far more important things while I write this post (like soaking my feet in Epsom salts and snacking on some peanut brittle). But is it really that hard to send a message without resorting to a bizarrely shortened version of English (or any other language for that matter)? Nothing says “You are old” like having to Lycos Google the meaning of a text from my college age daughter.

All this typing is making me tired. I’m going to finish my sarsaparilla and squeeze in a second mid-afternoon nap so I’m rested up for square dancing later.

3 thoughts on “Very, Very Many Years of Living

  1. Dear god I love this post. I don’t want to recognise huge parts of this post but I do Damn it. You’r as old as you feel…how do I feel…weeeeeell…Tomorrow I will feel young again and dance as though nobody is watching. back to the halcyon days of balmy summers and wonderful country houses. Goodness how old do I think I am more to the point how old do YOU think I am. Please do not answer that one I may just get an answer that I just would’nt like. Even artistic licence has its limitations for aged imagined pain

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