You can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain
I'm moving...AGAIN. Movin' on up to the west side to a deluxe two-bedroom condo in the skyyyy-ish (there are 2 balconies involved). Crazy. I'm like a bohemian except I'm less assholey.
As I was packing things up yesterday I came across a trench coat that I used to wear in my nubile twenties. It was my go-to jacket. Hot pink with unfortunate shoulder pads -- although I can assure you broad shoulders on a lady was quite sought after in the early nineties. That pink jacket saw a lot of parties and anchored many skimpy outfits back in the day. In fact, I even wore it once over nothing at all as a nice surprise for a boyfriend. Sigh. Lovely memories. So what did I go and do? I tried it on... and ruined everything. Who in the hell was the sad old lady in pink gawking at me in the mirror and why the fuck was she wearing my jacket? I packed the jacket up toot sweet, lest the hag decided to hijack my looking glass again.
I will be 36 in 9 days.
As I was packing things up yesterday I came across a trench coat that I used to wear in my nubile twenties. It was my go-to jacket. Hot pink with unfortunate shoulder pads -- although I can assure you broad shoulders on a lady was quite sought after in the early nineties. That pink jacket saw a lot of parties and anchored many skimpy outfits back in the day. In fact, I even wore it once over nothing at all as a nice surprise for a boyfriend. Sigh. Lovely memories. So what did I go and do? I tried it on... and ruined everything. Who in the hell was the sad old lady in pink gawking at me in the mirror and why the fuck was she wearing my jacket? I packed the jacket up toot sweet, lest the hag decided to hijack my looking glass again.
I will be 36 in 9 days.
posted by ... at 3:18 PM
5 Comments:
I know your tagline is about waxing pathetic, but stop belittling yourself. You've still got your youth and your looks. If you insist on spending the next ten years calling yourself a hag, nobody's going to stop you. However, it would be a real waste.
You're a writer; you've got to agree that the best writing comes from life experience instead of youth and stupidity. Write a personal narrative like David Sedaris, or a tell-all expose like Chelsea Handler. I'm sure somebody who reads this site would be willing to connect you with an agent or a publisher if you asked. At any rate, you're not going to get "discovered" or become a "superstar" if you spend all your creative energy blogging about how much you hate turning 36.
(Sorry if this sounds condescending or abrasive, by the way. This is all advice I'd like to give myself, but it's easier to tell someone else to write a book than it is to actually sit down and *write* a book.)
Oh, anonymous...
I enjoy a good *pep talk* as much as the next complainer. And I'm sure your heart is in the right place... but I'd bet my left nut you're not that much fun to get drunk with.
I don't drink. I'm not that much fun, full stop.
I still think you should write a book.
36 is the new black :)
Shane
Glad you're writing again! I miss this blog when you're on hiatus (intentional or otherwise.)
You want to know something funny that I've noticed?
I turned 38 in February. I still like going to indie music shows and parties and openings and whatever. Some people have told me that I'm getting too old for such things but the people that tell me that are all around my age or older. The 'kids' don't care. They only seem to pick on 'old people' who act like old people.
If you go out and have fun and drink with them and talk to them (without any of the when I was your age...) you're fine.
I'm not going to go into the 'you're only as old as you feel' stuff but if you do the things you enjoy, go out an have fun and don't worry about the number of candles on your birthday cake you won't age nearly as quickly.
Cheers!
J
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