The older folk tell me they know what an archive is but not in the online world and shake their fists when I tell them to try the microfiche department to catch up on past posts.
So instead of taunting them I say click here and bore yourself along with the rest of those who wonder how there can be myths about picky eaters.
Old struggles long past and thought overcome or handled have resurfaced leaving me to wonder if they weren’t properly handled or if perhaps they are like some comic book villains who escape so there might be a sequel.
The online world is starting to be filled with pictures of friends/family who have used an app to age their faces.
I stop, smile and shake my head because I don’t need an app to do that.
Every morning I see that guy looking back at me and wonder who the hell he is because he looks 25 years older than I expect.
I stare at the hairline and think about shaving it all off because I hate the way it looks but hesitate because it means giving myself one more task to do.
When I am clean shaven I don’t mind going for a few days without shaving, but my head is different. If I shave it I suspect I am going to want to maintain that Mr. Clean look.
Long ago I had a girlfriend who said she hoped I wouldn’t go bald because she was a fan of hair. I did what I tell my kids to do and didn’t react because I figured it was so far off there was no point in worrying about it.
“Decade or decades assuming it happens” was my silent comment alongside a wish that it didn’t because who wants to look like an old man.
Now the day has long since passed and here I am mostly pleased because I never have to worry about hair issues again.
There are no concerns about bad hair cuts, convertibles, wind days or hats and I kind of like it.
Ask me what would happen if I could take a pill that had no side effects and would restore my full head of hair and I might consider it.
Won’t say for certain, but I might.
Aging and life are funny things.
You like what you like and love who you love without logic, reason or permission.
You just do and if you are lucky there isn’t a single damn hiccup with any of it. You can eat what you want, when you want and never be concerned about consequences or so the genie of the lamp promises.
Another Story About Me My Monkey
One of the guys at the gym asks if I can tell him any stories about fraternity life in California. He has never been there and pictures beaches all over.
“Don’t want to burst your bubble, but it is a very large state and you could easily be hours from a beach.”
“Nah, about 30 minutes or so, sometimes more, sometimes less depending where you are.”
He scrunches his face and asks if I can tell him a story anyway.
I say sure and I tell him about my monkey.
“My monkey was my best friend and we were inseparable. We had more adventures than you can imagine and spent more than a few minutes laughing.”
His eyes are locked on mine and he is fully engrossed in the tale.
I tell him about how we went backpacking and a giant earthquake hit.
“A rock hit Monkey and I in the head and we fell, except Monkey fell into a giant hole. I spent forever trying to find a way to rescue Monkey but couldn’t. It was hard moving on, but I did. I said goodbye and that was that.
Except it wasn’t.
Months or maybe years passed and I discovered Monkey was still alive. You can imagine my jubilation and excitement. I raced to the place where I heard Monkey was living and immediately hugged Monkey.
Except Monkey didn’t hug me back. Monkey didn’t remember me like that, said I was familiar, but that was it.”
Before I could go on the guy stopped me and asked if I was reciting a movie or a book.
“Nope, not that I know of.”
“It sure sounds like one.”
“Do you think I could make up such a story?”
“I don’t know, you just rolled that one off your tongue like it was nothing.”
Teddy is one of those historical figures I think I would have liked to have met if for no other reason to thank him for spelling out some important thoughts.
I am worn out and beaten down now, ready to hide out and hibernate.
The crap that is going on has me shaking my head and stomping my feet.
We live in a time in which the sheeple ask to be led by the bad and the brutes. It is easier not to think than to ask hard questions and hold people accountable.
Life would be easier if I could do that.
It would be less stressful if I knew how to ignore and let go of some things, but I can’t and I won’t.
So I guess I better suck it up and get ready to dig in. Better hold out a hand for those smart enough to take it and get ready for the battle that is coming.
Maybe one day new old people will ask to read the tale of these times and need instruction on how to find the archive.