As I’ve Matured

Getting old is a touchy subject with me. I joke about it a lot, but I don’t particularly like it (yes, I know it beats the alternative.) I don’t like big birthday celebrations because I don’t like to be reminded of the passing of time, taking comfort in whatever denial I can work up. I’m heartened that people tend to think I’m much younger than I really am (when we moved to this neighborhood, someone asked me if my father was transferred here) and I always enjoy the fact that most of my college buddies look 10 years older than me. I go to events and wonder “Who exactly are all these middle-aged people with the same names as my friends?” It’s an odd paradox, because I think in every way I’m a better person than I was when I was 21. I want that person’s body, metabolism and stamina with this brain inside it. But I don’t like aging, or more correctly, I don’t like slowly becoming aged. There are some upsides, though.

In that ilk, I found a great listing of lessons from aging posted on McGee’s Musings. My favorite couple:

  • I’ve learned that you shouldn’t compare yourself to others – they are more
    screwed up than you think.
  • I’ve learned that depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
  • I’ve learned that it is not what you wear, it is how you take it off.
  • I’ve learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you’re
    finished.
  • I’ve learned to not sweat the petty things, and not pet the sweaty things.