Something occurred to me just now: the last time I was dating, it was at the turn of the century. The turn of the century. Is there a phrase that is more likely to make a person feel 114? It gave me visions of the transition between horse and buggies and the Model T. Ice boxes to electric refrigerators. Suffragettes in bloomers. Women starting to show a little ankle.
So after I was done screaming internally, I wondered about it.
It’s just a way to describe the passing of time, really, and the passing of time doesn’t bother me. Really.
Still, for whatever reason, the phrase doesn’t seem to fit the occasion for this century. Maybe because it was a new millennium. Maybe just because it’s a phrase meant for history books and old timers looking back.
But.
If I think about how quickly I got from 1963 to 2015, and how much more quickly time seems to pass with every year, I realize that I will be one of those old timers very shortly. I’m closer to geezerdom than adolescence.
Which is weird to think about given how young I feel. Or rather how much I feel like I am the same person regardless.
And in a lot of ways, most ways, I am looking forward to it. Swilling cocktails with my friends. Being raunchy. Going places I’ve never been. Doing things I’ve never done. Reading everything I can get my hands on. Writing shit down. Buying too much lipstick and eyeliner. Eating noodles for breakfast. Wondering if I have coffee.
Wondering about everything.
Not much different than now.
Bring it on, Time.