Happy Thursday kidz, or as I am referring to today as,
“Old Folks Day at IWS.”
Yep. I recently had a few thoughts about growing older, and at the ripe old age of 47, growing older type thoughts creep and sneak their way into my mind more often.
The good thing about that is, as I grow older, my aging mind forgets spontaneous thoughts nearly as fast as they come to mind, but these thoughts?
I wrote them down immediately, because as I am getting older, I knew that two minutes from their inception, I would forget them.
You see…
The other day on Twitter, Jayman and I were discussing his twenty something year old neighbors who are constantly partying it up loudly and obnoxiously.
We began to talk about how we in our forties, can’t do that every night any longer.
I told Jayman that, rest assured I can still party just as intensely as they do, but the duration and frequency of my hoopla is far less, and even on my craziest day of partying, involves a nap at some point.
After we briefly talked about that, I began to think about being forty-seven, and not in a bad way… just thinking about how when I was, say, anywhere from the age of sixteen to twenty-one, how differently I thought being the age of forty-seven would be, and vice-versa.
For instance…
Back in my teens, I never knew that at the age of forty-seven, I would spend Saturday mornings as I exited the bathroom, being asked by a woman if I had a good dump. Never did I ever imagine that I would be asked in serious and quasi-concerned tone if my dump was, “satisfying.”
Worse yet, I never realized that I would respond in graphic detail as to why it was or was not, a satisfying dump, and neither of us thinking it to to be an awkward question nor response.
I remember being sixteen and having wet dreams…Holy Cow.
I’d wake up in the morning going,
“Ewwwww, I’m all matted n’shit.”, and then I'd remember that I got that way because I had nocturnal emission sex with the red head in my HS Biology class. Mmmmmmmm.
I figured by the time I hit the age of forty-seven, the wet dreams would be long over, but noooooo. Just the other night, I had one, and I was having sex with the person with whom I live.
I was creeped out for a second, but I felt better knowing that I never at the age of sixteen, had a wet dream involving somebody that I lived with.
That would be creepy because growing up, I had six brothers and two sisters, which back then in the
Kentucky Derby of Wet Dreams, would have put me having sex with one of my brothers, as a 1-3 favorite.
I don’t like those odds. Those odds make me wince, especially if it was my brother Vince. Uuch.
I never realized back then, that at my current age, a good fart would still be funny. While they can be as noxious as always, they can still make a happy and lyrical noise.
When I was younger, I used to make fun of my dad for taking a ninety-minute nap every Saturday and Sunday, and now?
I need at least some semblance of a nap everyday, even if only for fifteen minutes.
At twenty or so, I was glad that the acne days were over, and then, they still come back even at my age. Some days now, I’ll look in the mirror and say…
“Holy Shit!! I have face cancer!!”
Turns out to be just a huge pus-filled zit. Oy!!
I have no point to today’s meanderings, just pointing out that as we glide along our personal timelines, some things change and some things don't, but it’s all fun, even when irritating at times.
I like being forty-seven, and not because forty-seven is my favorite number or anything; it’s because I like being where I am in life, and who I am surrounded by in my life, and knowing that, for good or bad, it will always be interesting, because…
As we experience new things or look back on hold experiences, as we age, our perspective changes, and in a way, that makes even the past seem new again, and I like that.
And better yet, I’ll like that fact differently tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day…
Cheers!!
Matt-Man
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattmaniws
