I went and saw “the Trip.” It was so good. I wrote it up for I Saw That but I feel I did not do it justice. Then I just watched clips from Tristram Shandy on youtube for awhile.
Tomorrow I turn 34 years old. How did this happen?
Katy told me the other day she couldn’t read something she was holding and then without thinking about it she took off her glasses and held the thing far away from her face, then realized what she had just done and became awash in the devastating realization of mortality. “It’s real,” she kept saying.
I submit to you additionally:
– pulled groin that will not heal even though I am not exercising whatsoever
– crows feet around eyes
– weird nose-bridge wrinkles between eyebrows
– suddenly amazingly saggy butt that looks like an elephant’s ankle
– inability to drink more than two drinks ever
– going to bed earlier and earlier
– total inability to use increasingly large array of modern devices
– utter shock upon viewing those pictures of a suddenly somehow 18 year old Frances Bean
– no longer annoyed by loud stupid teens on the bus; now find myself smiling gently at them
– excited about interest rate for new checking account
– no longer able to ride in car for longer than 3 hours without feeling like I might die of bone failure
– getting those weird light brown sun spots on my face: NOT FRECKLES
– my oldest friend suddenly has “kidney pains”
– have passed through Baby Fever and now am just exhausted/vaguely grossed out by whole concept of babies
– can’t drink afternoon coffee
– remember being alive during times young people today have only heard old people tell them about (September 11, grunge music, seeing email for the first time, button-down shirts tucked into high-waisted jeans; braided leather belts, the invention of cell phones, getting mind blown by seeing Super Mario 3 debuted in film “The Wizard” starring Fred Savage)
– still own cassette tapes but can’t find machine to play them on
– went to Empire Strikes Back upon its FIRST theatrical release
– find myself saying things like “goodness gracious”
It’s only going to get weirder from here. It’s like literally living in a science fiction novel! Think of when we’re 70—my dad remembers running behind the truck that was spraying the entire town with a thick film of DDT, and all the kids would run behind the truck laughing and trying to cover themselves with the white powder; this cultural phenomenon was briefly dramatized in the most recent Terrence Malick film “Tree of Life.”
Imagine watching what amounts to a period costume drama and being like “I used to have those same shoes.”
Steve hates when I talk about how old I am, which I understand because he’s only ten days younger than me and is not as morbidly obsessed as I am with death and the shrill shrieking void of the empty godless universe. But Steve, it makes me feel better to confront it and even be hyperbolic about it! If you catalogue each gray hair you are less stunned when you look in the mirror one day and realize, my god, all my hair’s gone.
Last night I went to karaoke with Katy and Nicole, and there were all these grizzled old Portland hipsters there as per usual, but then there was also this table of the most unbelievably young, fresh-faced, clean-cut 20 year olds, all of them blonde and tan and muscled and wearing, like, those pink bermuda shorts you used to get at the Gap in the 90’s, which I don’t really understand where these kids are getting the idea for shorts like that, but to each his own. And while everyone else in the bar was doing the total hits of the 80’s and 90’s, these kids kept getting up and doing fucking Disney cartoon songs. They’d get up in big groups because they were too scared to sing alone. When they did it the first time everyone thought it was a joke, but it turned out, no, they just really love those songs. They were so young. Katy kept asking if they were Mormons. They just looked too beautiful and healthy to be real, not all broke-down and leathery and wizened and scrawny like the rest of us.
I don’t want to be that age again–so much crying!–but these moments where you realize that time has been indeed passing while you weren’t paying attention are pretty astonishing. I keep thinking about Louis C.K.’s bit about how the best-case scenario is that you are really happy, you meet someone you love so much and you spend your whole entire life with them, and then they DIE, and you’re all alone, carrying heavy bags home from the grocery store, waiting for your own turn to become nothing too.
It’s okay though because once you die you don’t have to worry about global warming anymore. Or omg WHAT IF YOU DO
Someone who lives four doors down from us died the other day, but they were young, and they died of heroin not of old age, so I’m not sweating it.
KIDS: DON’T DO HEROIN, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!
My parents arrive tomorrow. I hope they are happy here and that they are not scared and that my dad’s classes are fun for him. They keep asking if we can take the snoopy on the bus. Last night I was reminded of the single greatest text I have ever received, which came out of the blue from my dad late one night:
“grt sng, evrbdy hrts. who?”
So true.
Happy Birthday!
I just had my 30th last week. For one of my birthday hangs, I had my first college-era roommate and some other friends of ours from that time (2000-2002) over for dinner. My old roommate and I realized that we’d both been following your blog for like a million years and never knew it! We were like “oh yeah, remember Bird? and then they moved to Iowa! and I told her they should get a dog! she’s so funny! ellowel.
Best blog ever. Probably my favorite online person ever. Have a great birthday!
PS What course are you teaching? And Where?
What a nice comment! So cool to realize people read my blog in friend groups and don’t know it. Love that the legend of Bird lives on.
I’m teaching a western civ course at my old alma mater! Don’t want to give specifics for googling reasons, but it is hilarious. Literally teaching “The Old Testament.”
The Wizard! Yes! That was a Really Big Deal.
Ha ha!
I was reading it thinking “i hate that she is doing this again,” and then you wrote about how I hate it! Disarming me!
BUT BUT BUT to constantly focus on the difference in ages and how far away from BEAUTIFUL YOUTH you are creates a false binary of young/old, beauty/ugly, fun/boring, able/disable. It’s just not true at all. The differences are actually really SUBTLE. Sure there are slight changes, and I certainly accept you noticing them and talking about them is positive and funny, but to make it a constant refrain (and the no. 1 topic) must push your feelings and activities towards the negative side of the false binary (a belief that you are no longer beautiful, a belief that you can no longer have fun/do fun things) when in fact you specifically are so shockingly young and fresh in appearance and I can attest to your ability to conquer technologies, stay up late, do physical tasks.
I strongly believe this. Aging is real, its happening, but certainly not to the extent that you claim.
Also, don’t use your age as a crutch!
The US census definition of middle age is 35-50. Your obsession is premature.
one year premature!
but, your points are very good. Also it is silly to spend too much time in actual youth pondering aging, because you know once you’re legitimately old you’ll be like “why did I think I was so old when I was 34? What an asshole.” It’s just hard for me because I am so interested in it, and because my personality is all about superstitiously warding things off by focusing on the very outcomes I most dread.
I can stay up late!!!!!!!
I have never been too hung up on my youth… it never has seemed that great to me, for I have not been clear-skinned and high-breasted for many days. Puberty took *my* youth away. At the same time, as all the little things I take for granted do fall away one by one, I am forced to appreciate what is indeed my youth. My conscience feels heavier and heavier, but it’s because I just started to notice it, too.
For the past couple of years, my focus has shifted away from my peers to what I understand to be my role models–lovely, elegant, adult ladies who have traded in naturally smoothed-down hair for artful beauty and style. I guess it goes to show you that I am hung up on beauty somehow, but I guess I favor cultivated growth over raw, natural materials.
Wonder how I’ll feel in five years…
“puberty took my youth away” is the great comment in the history of comments.
it’s really true. RCH is full of pithy gems!
call this number on Monday (503) 768-7341 and ask for Nikki. The library can set your page up for you. It is a service that the library offers.
amazing! THANK YOU!
I am 34 and also a bit stuck on the topic of age, death, and deterioration. This is because (though I am still pretty youthful) I kind of feel like shit half the time. And I also can’t stay up late, drink, or ride in cars (without the proper balance of food/water/sleep beforehand). I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.
It is hard for me to take a man’s criticism of age-talk seriously because he is not living with these crazy fucking hormonal changes that feel a lot like your body is either begging you to have a child or punishing you if you decide not to. This shit is real! It’s like I’m waiting for a fever to break.
I also think that being 34 makes me feel like I’m really close to aging out of the job market and that I’d better get my shit together soon if I ever want to do anything interesting in my life (for money). Hopefully I am wrong about this.
Anyway, this is a very long way of saying: please don’t stop writing about your weird feelings about getting old! I’d much rather hear it from someone real like yourself than from a ladies mag trying to sell “age-defying cream,” or whatever.
I guess I am not thirty-four yet, but well on my way.
What is difficult for me when you speak of your aging body is that I know you and from my perspective you have great genes and a lot of youth left. You talk of your saggy ass and I can’t help but be “OMG, she has NO idea!”. Some of us start with saggy asses at the age of eleven. As much as I deeply love you, it’s too much to take sometimes.
I don’t feel old. I feel like I am aging, but I am really into it. To me it’s a beautiful thing. So many things I used to care about are now no big deal. I felt frumpy as a twenty year-old and now as a thirty year-old I have moments where I am like “Hey… I’m doing all right.”. I just don’t feel like talking with friends about how old we are getting all the way up to fifty and then after fifty just being old.
Some of my friends are in their late forties and when I hang out with them I am not scared. There is still so much life to live, so much stuff to do, so many new friends to make. It’s not all about joint pain and going to bed early. This could very likely be a phase of your life, you know? Like maybe in a not so distant future you’ll have a job and life that will make you attend fancy events where you have to dress pretty and stay up late.
I love you.
Happy birthday!
“have passed through Baby Fever and now am just exhausted/vaguely grossed out by whole concept of babies”
Same here. It’s weird to feel yourself choose to be a minority, and know that you are setting yourself up for a lifetime of most people feeling vaguely sorry for you or something. I really do not want any kids, though! And since my wife is even more passionate about not having them than I am, it’s pretty much case closed.
T.S., KIDS!