Posts Tagged ‘getting older’

Rainbows and unicorns

Thursday, October 15th, 2009

Actually, I have nothing to say on the subject of rainbows and unicorns, it just sounded like a perfectly awful (and slightly terrifying) title. Unicorns are a’ight. I’ve never seen one, but if I did I think I would be worried it would gore me. I recently saw a photo where a rainbow ends right on top of an SUV. It would seem the pot of gold comes in many forms…

Me at seven months old. I think I was playing peek-a-boo. And I was damn good at it. Or so I've been told.

Me at seven months old. I think I was playing peek-a-boo. And I was damn good at it. Or so I've been told.

So without any proper intro, let’s get down to business and check out this little photo montage I lovingly prepared for you. And believe me, although I didn’t manage to get a post up in a timely manner, I invested time as if I had. There’s no need to rehash the hairy details; sufficed to say: Leopard, dammit, HP scanner, restart, 2004, ^$%%@!!!, even more drivers, eventual success.

At any rate, and as you can see (unless you are in blind, and in which case, how are you reading this? Probably text to speech. Okay, ignore that question. I figured it out myself.) I have put together a little “this is my life” for you based on some photos I found in the garage last month while searching for a tape player. Actually, and more accurately, it’s “this is the first ten years of my life” but I really don’t appreciate you taking everything so literally. Yeah. I said it. I’ve had about enough of your guff. Keep it to yourself, pal.

So, let’s see. What’s been going on?

From the size of my brother, I'd say I'm about 2 1/2 in this one. And no, I wasn't one of those genius babies that could read, I just had an early start on being a poseur.

From the size of my brother, I'd say I'm about 2 1/2 in this one. And no, I wasn't one of those genius babies that could read, I just had an early start on faking it until you make it.

First, as you probably know, I got a year older. That’s right. Despite my attempts to resist the march of time, time marched over me. What can I say? Time is a relentless bastard, and there’s just no reasoning with him. Believe me, I’ve tried.

In celebration of yet another candle on the cake, I had a low-key day that was pretty much like every other day: editing, going for a run, voodoo ceremony, more editing, goofing around on the internets, animal sacrifice, and some pizza with friends. In all actuality, my cake had four candles for some bad math/unknown reason (I think the explanation given was that it looked proportionate), and I successfully blew them all out.  (!!!)

I can’t reveal my wish, lest it not come true, but sufficed to say, someone living in a beach house in Kauai is going to start feeling strangely compelled to sign it over to me any day now…

Me at probably my fifth birthday. I actually remember that cake. My mom's friend made it.

Me (the ham. The only one paying attention to the camera) at probably my fifth birthday. I actually remember that cake. My mom's friend made it.

In other news, I filed a petition to enact the Modified Benjamin Button Effect. As we all know, I’ve been fighting the ravages of time pretty damn well (thank you god of looking younger than you are), but in another twenty years, I may not be quite as hot. Make no mistake, I’ll still turn some heads at the nursing home, but I also don’t want to be Cher. You know, 63 but carrying on like you’re 25. It lacks dignity.

That’s why I think the best plan is to get to 50, and then let the clock start running backwards. I have to imagine one’s 40′s are a lot more fun when you know your 30′s and 20′s lie ahead.

Nobody gets hurt, and I’m happy.

If you ask me, it’s win/win.

Now, I never saw that movie, but I know enough to know that what I’ve laid out isn’t QUITE the Benjamin Button effect. You’re supposed to start out old and get young, but seeing as I (obviously) didn’t start out old, I’m hoping for a pass on that small detail.

The Halloween of my 10th year (with my brother). My mother was the queen of improvising costumes out of nothing - with mixed success. That year I was wearing some old dress of hers, and she did that for my brother out of several rolls of gauze. Perhaps I could talk him into a reprisal next year?

The Halloween of my 10th year (with my brother). My mother was the queen of improvising costumes out of nothing - with mixed success. Thank god I grew into my 'man hands.' What the hell was going on there????

Anyway, I haven’t heard back on my petition yet (bureaucracies. There’s so much red tape), but I’m hopeful. Plus, I’ve got a solid thirteen years until the backwards clock starts, so I’m not going to stress it too much just yet.

In conclusion, and in case you were wondering, I included these photos for you so you’d recognize me in the future. Assuming things go according to plan, this is how I plan to look during my ‘golden years.’

p.s.

Thanks so much for all the birthday wishes on the last blog post! It’s really a cool thing to think I type up this nonsense and multiple someones somewhere actually read it. You guys are the best!!!!

(Even if your first name is Frothy. It’s not your fault. Obviously it’s a family name or your mother was very young and not really thinking it through…)

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Thoughts on a birthday eve

Monday, October 12th, 2009
Birthday candles come from an old pagan tradition of sending your prayers to the gods in smoke. And I can see why. This cake makes me want to dance around it wearing nothing but a pelt. It's a party unto itself!

Birthday candles come from an old pagan tradition of sending your prayers to the gods in smoke. And I can see why. This cake makes me want to dance around it wearing nothing but a pelt. It's a party unto itself!

So in the last year I’ve either gotten smarter or I’ve just gotten old.

Or maybe both?

The thing of it is, I know all these people who spend all kinds of time and money and energy going out and whooping it up every weekend and buying things they don’t need and coveting those who are rich or acting like they’re rich or ‘have it all’ or any and anything in between.

And I wonder what it is that makes that fun?

If you ask me, I suppose it’s the hope of meeting interesting people or seeming like one yourself, the desire to have a laugh, the indulgence of fine food and wine, and the overall allure of ‘the glamorous life.’

And the thing of it is, all that bores me.

Well, minus the food and wine…but if you have me around, I can at least take care of the food part. Just bring me some champagne, and we’re square.

Anyway, I find that the more energy one puts into looking fabulous or being impressive, the less they often actually have to offer as a human being.

At this point in my life, my ‘best night ever’ would involve a few cherished friends or beloved family members, great food, a little too much wine or other inebriating substance, and maybe a board game. Or a late-night swim on a warm night. Or a great conversation. Or live music. Or a hilarious movie. Or a beach bonfire. Or a guitar sing-a-long on a night I’ve taken it easy enough on the inebriating substances to remember the chords. Or a storytelling session. Or watching shooting stars. Or laughing just because. Or whatever.

Let’s start with the first three ingredients and see what happens…

Meanwhile, I realize I’ve been lucky enough to have several of these occasions in the last year:

If any of you wanted to drop by with this cake, I wouldn't argue. Much.

If any of you wanted to drop by with this cake, I wouldn't argue. Much.

In Sequim, Washington at the “Clam Cottage” where I actually won a game of Trivial Pursuit! (In your face, sucka!)

In Washington, D.C. watching “Strangers with Candy” episodes on a laptop.

In Wildwood, New Jersey where I saw my dad laugh so hard he cried.

And even just this Saturday night when I had some great friends over, one of whom is one of those remarkable people who always makes you feel smart and fascinating and impossibly clever.

More than that, I have some other fun times to look forward to before 2009 is out.

And for all that I’m super grateful.

So on the eve of declaring myself yet another year older, I suppose it could be a lot worse. I could be wasting my money and my time chasing illusions of youth and glamour and hoping to meet some fabulous people under a disco ball…but I’m happy to find that I’m pretty damn content just being me and living the life I’ve made.

It ain’t perfect, and I still have things I’m (majorly) striving for…but what fun would it be without all those hopes and dreams, anyway?

A few of you owe me this cake (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), but no need to bring it by.

A few of you owe me this cake (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), but no need to bring it by.

As a strange irony, I was sent a link during the course of writing this post, and it fits in perfectly, natch. It’s entitled “Nine Secrets of Truly Happy People,  and I’m sure now – like me – you’re dying to know them. There’s a longer, more detailed version you can find here, but for me, this abbreviated list is crystal clear as-is:

1. They know what really matters
2. They choose just two or three important projects for each year
3. They put time aside for them each day
4. They surround themselves with people who motivate, inspire or build them up

5. Happy people eat well
6. They take time to play or to just ‘be’
7. They learn not to make excuses, justify, or cop out
8. Happy people take time to be grateful – for themselves and for others
9. They get something done

Another year bites the dust. Happy birthday to me!

Another year bites the dust. Happy birthday to me!

And you know what? I think this list is dead-on.

So to my birthday twins (Cliff, Cesar, and Paul Simon) and to all of you: Salud, Mazal tov, and Here’s looking at you, Kid!

Cheers to this list and to life!

p.s.

Tomorrow, if I get my act together, I’m feeling kind of inspired to post a couple childhood pictures for you. The major roadblock involves my scanner…

p.p.s.

And yes, this entire post has come to you in my birthday suit.

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