Thursday, June 13, 2013


I’m pretty sure I’m one of the few people you’ll meet that’s absolutely honest about their age, especially as I have a birthday coming up.

Why the honesty? Because, quoting Rhett Butler, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn."

However, I tend to ask those who don’t know any better how old they think I am. You’d be surprised how often I’m surveyed as being younger than my years. A couple of years ago, while at school, I asked some of my classmates to guess my age. 

“Mmm…you can’t possibly be over…33. Nah, 32.”

No joke. That is a direct quote. As soon as it was said, I wrote it down in my comp-notebook, word-for-word. (That’s what writers do—we write stuff down so we don’t forget)

I could say something enterprising or eloquent, such as “It’s the water in Portland,”…but then, Oregonians would say that’s the wrong environmental element to give credit to. 

True, I don’t spend a whole lot of time absorbing Vitamin D, the way I did as a kid growing up in California, when no one knew shit about skin cancer. But then, it’s also not because I can't reveal to the world that I sparkle. (Cue eye-roll here) As I’m too broke to afford those pricey ‘youth-enhancing’ miracle creams in those darling jewel-like jars, I rely on my lifestyle.

Though, not everyone’s willing to give up having youth, in order to have youthfulness. What the hell am I talking about? You’re new to this blog, aren’t you?

Once upon a Gen-X time, I used to put a lot of pressure on myself to live exactly the way society—and an overbearing relative—defined as ‘the right way’ to live. And, if I’d lived by those made-up standards, I would’ve felt like a miserable failure. 

However, the Gemini in me soon detected the bullshit that came with others perceptions of rightness. And over time, I’ve discovered my lifestyle has served me well. Of course, like any life-choices, it has its ups and downs. 

Downside? Being perceived as unlucky because I chose not to marry or procreate.
Upside? Being perceived as lucky because I chose not to marry or procreate.

Yah, the spectrum varies, depending on whom you’re talking to, and when. Such as, having to come up with funds to send your brood to college, as opposed to sending yourself to college. 
If you’re sending yourself, you can be pretty sure you won’t be dropping out of classes, and hiding the fact from your parents. 

So, back to ‘I’m knockin’ on forty-five, but look early-thirties’. I think by now, even I’d admit I look more mid-to-late-thirties. Lately I’ve been gaining some gray hair that I’m able to mask with L'OrĂ©al. And a certain amount of pudginess has “smoothed out any wrinkles,” as wise ol’ Mom has suggested. 
In my not-the-least-bit-humble opinion, I've learned a lot from having the time to be introspective. And here's the key:

Your 20s are for discovering true independence…and being stupidly arrogant.
Your 30s are for living the lessons you gained in your 20s…remembering how stupidly arrogant you were.

And your 40s are for laughing at the 20 y/o’s.

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