I apologize for the No Update Wednesday this week. I’m going to try to keep it to a minimum, but there might be a few more missed days than usual for the next month or so. Lotsa shit going on…
First on the list: a hard deadline for my “book” is fast approaching. I need to have it completely finished and ready to hand over to the formatter on March 1. That means I only have about two more weeks to tweak and make changes. It’s completely terrifying.
Once she has it, and starts working her formatting magic, I can’t do anything else with it. It’ll no longer be a work in process, it’ll be “completed.” Whether or not it’s actually completed doesn’t really matter at that point. So, I’m stressing a little. Please be patient as I buckle under the pressure and crap myself with abandon.
And speaking of self-publishing a first novel, please read my interview with C.D. Payne, author of Youth in Revolt, at CrossroadsRoad.
I’d like to do plenty of interviews for that site, and have a list of people I’m planning to harass via email. C.D. was at the top of that list because his first novel is freaking hilarious, and he wasn’t able to find a publisher for it in the beginning. These are things that interest me… I appreciate him taking the time to answer my questions, and hope you guys enjoy it as well.
There’s a woman who sits near me at work who plays the worst songs ever recorded through her computer speakers. I don’t know if she bought a box set (K-Tel’s Audio Butt Turds volumes 1-4?), or what. But it’s all breathtakingly bad, and causes me to grind my teeth.
I usually don’t say anything, unless the volume is too high. She gooses it a little here and there, to see how far she can push it. And I eventually have to tell her to turn it down. But I don’t generally say anything about her song selection, even though it makes me want to start ripping wires from the wall.
She plays a bizarre mixture of horrible dance music (all featuring computer distortion of the vocals like Johnny Bravo), godawful commercial country (I hate country music that’s played on the radio worse than Hitler), and shitty oldies (like “Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves”).
And when one of those current pop songs/dance tunes is playing, I find myself going fully rigid with aggravation, and thinking, “That’s not music, that’s just noise!” Like some old man shaking his fist on his front lawn. And even though I KNOW my assessment is correct, it concerns me that I’m starting to display old codger tendencies.
So, I started thinking about other things that might indicate a slide toward yellow slacks and The History Channel, and there are a few alarming developments:
- When they bring in pizza at work, or we order at home, I always look at it and think, “Man, I’m gonna pay for that later…” I still eat five or six slices, needless to say, but I worry about heartburn. It’s something I didn’t even understand ten years ago. Heartburn? Ha! That’s just another of those fake ailments people invent because they don’t have enough drama in their lives, I’d think to myself. And now it kicks my ass, and makes me whimper deep into the night.
- Whenever I get a haircut, the cigarette-voiced divorcee always says, “Do you want me to do your eyebrows?” And I usually freak out a little and make some joke about Andy Rooney and his crazy brows. And she always answers, “Who?” Oh, it’s a sad state of affairs… They sometimes shave my earlobes, too. Man, I haven’t had hair in new places since I was thirteen, and let me tell you, it’s still frightening.
- Also, when I get up in the morning, I almost always groan, “Ohhh, my aching feet” as I shuffle across the bedroom. It’s completely involuntary, and I feel sick about it afterward. Yes, this is what it’s come to.
And now I’d like to know that I’m not alone here. In the comments section, please tell us about the signs of aging that you’re seeing. I know some of you are young whipper-snappers, but maybe you’ve noticed something too? I have a feeling it’s a long, slow decline. Heh.
I’ll see you guys again on Friday.
Have a great day!
I have plenty of the physical stuff mentioned above; the one thing that has been bothering me has been my ability to remember any names. The physical stuff I can take pills for; but only if i can remember to take them.
I’m so glad I’m not the only one. Getting old is not for sissies. In my head, I’m still 18, but then I look in the mirror and see my Mother. Hey, it beats the alternative.
Looking in the mirror and seeing my mother makes me just a little bit suicidal. I can totally relate.
I am 46 and have two bad knees. I also have to use corn starch everyday, to prevent being gaulded. Being gaulded is sometimes referred to as having swamp ass.
Swamp ass is bad stuff.
Only in the past year or so have I found my farts becoming untrustworthy. No bueno. “Never pass up a bathroom” is 100% true. I passed one up when getting on a plane in Tampa, thinking “it’s only a two hour flight”. Then the plane circled, waiting for the weather to clear, until we ran low on fuel. Landed at Harrisburg where they didn’t let us off, and it ended up being more like seven hours total before I got off the damn plane.
I’m not familiar with this aching feet thing, but then I’m only 52. Once I dreamed that I was working up in the ceiling on a ladder, and when I woke up my feet hurt from the ladder.
Based on what I’ve seen from other (often younger) Reporters, I should be grateful that I’m merely fat and out of shape. My joints are mostly OK and I still have a full head of hair with only a few stray grays. If I go gray or bald, so be it. Fuck a bag of hair dye.
A young co-worker once asked me what year I graduated high school, and when I said 1976 he replied, “damn, I was born that year”.
Milestones:
. First time called Sir or Ma’am by a store clerk
. First time not carded for alcohol or tobacco purchase
. First time asked if you have an AARP card so you can get the discount
-> My AARP card is a badge for access to the HQ building, not for membership.
.
“Damn, I was born that year.”
Happy 164th birthday Thomas Edison. I bet he’s got a few of the problems we do by now.
I ain’t as good as I once was. But, I’m as good once as I ever was.
Sing it Toby!!!
Middle age starts at 35?!? Well, then I’m beginning my 11th year in about a month….
I enjoy hiking and biking and have more stamina playing hard and fast (punk) rock on my drum kit than I did when I was in my 20s. I reckon quitting smoking about 9 ago probably has a lot to do with my improved health in those areas. I also get frequent aches and pains that I never experienced in the salad days of my misspent youth. I wonder how my kidneys and liver are enjoying all of the NSAIDs I take these days. And then there’s the heartburn and hemorrhoids from eating stuff that I shouldn’t. Aging builds character.
I’m 48 and don’t feel like I’m doing TOO BAD. Other than the aforementioned looking in the mirror and seeing my mother and the fact that I can HEAR my knees when I walk down the stairs, I’m doing pretty well. Wait, there is the two day hangovers, as well.
I still enjoy loud music (hitting every heavy metal festival in Europe this year) so my nieces and nephews think I’m the “cool aunt”.
I can still eat pretty much anything I want. I’ve only had heartburn a couple of times and thought I was dying.
I’m still in pretty good shape, although my short-term memory kinda blows. Wanna know something I did in 1979? No problem. What did I have for dinner last night? Gimme a minute to think…
Yesterday I saw my 96 year old neighbor coming down the muletrail from the forest with a GIGANTIC bundle of twigs ON HER HEAD and thought…Jesus, I hope I’m in that good of shape when I’m 70, let alone 96!
Happy Friday, Surfers!
Just in case you were all wondering, and I’m sure you weren’t, I don’t feel particularly old. I don’t ache when I wake up, I haven’t noticed any gray hairs (yet) and I still like my music loud.
A few things I have noticed however…
For some reason which is a total medical mystery, gas builds up inside me while I’m sleeping and waits patiently until I’m walking to the bathroom around 7am to exit the premises. Loudly.
Sometimes I’ll glance in the mirror and realize that I have no makeup on and then say to myself, “fuck it, Kroger shoppers can kiss my ass”, throw on my shoes and just go grocery shopping. I haven’t stooped to jammie bottoms though. That still pisses me off. PJ’s? Seriously? People are SO lazy.
After nursing two children, the “twins” aren’t near as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as they used to be. (damn you gravity!!)
But on the bright side, I don’t have a muffin top, the “twins” look presentable thanks the Victoria’s Secret Push-up Collection, and I can still chase after my kids all day without feeling the need for a nap. Alcohol, on the otherhand, is a whole other story. I’m convinced that alcohol was invented by a parent who was one day away from a straight jacket.
So, I guess I really can’t bitch. Much.