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. <\/p>\n
So after I was done screaming internally, I wondered about it.
\nIt’s just a way to describe the passing of time, really, and the passing of time doesn’t bother me. Really. <\/p>\n
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. <\/p>\n
But. <\/p>\n
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. <\/p>\n
Which is weird to think about given how young I feel. Or rather how much I feel like I am the same person regardless. <\/p>\n
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. <\/p>\n
Wondering about everything. <\/p>\n
Not much different than now. <\/p>\n
Bring it on, Time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"