Just a quickie post today. Work is sapping my will to create and, in my free time, I’m desperately trying to plow through Of Human Bondage, which is not horrible, but it is 900-some pages and not exactly a cheer-fest. It’s bleak, man. Bleak. I’ve gotta get through it, though. I feel invested.
So a few random thoughts…
• There’s a young woman at my gym who tucks her t-shirt up into her sports bra, exposing an expanse of white manatee belly that undulates with the rhythm of the elliptical machine in the most horrifying, hypnotizing way. Confidence is a good thing, but there’s something to be said for healthy self-awareness…and mercifully wearing a shirt as it was intended.
• Speaking of self-awareness, I had a birthday last weekend. It was a rough one. I’ve decided not to have another one. I’m holding here. No more for me, thanks. I spent all of April dreading my birthday, feeling old and tired and panicked about the next birthday (it’s a whopper). So, I’m just going to pass from here out.
• I know I’m getting old because:
- I suddenly love Don Williams
- I whine about how young people dress (see above)
- I only want to read or watch love stories about people in their 30s or beyond. If you can choose to live with someone past age 30, you’re either blind, crazy, or completely in love. Otherwise, it’s not worth making room in the closet.
I’m leaving you now with this. If you like it, you’re officially old. Welcome to the club.