Thursday, January 30, 2014

On Being Really, Really Old

Seriously, how cute am in my
old lady readers?
So, I think I mentioned that I am taking this writing class. With girls who are actually a normal college age. And this is what I have learned so far: I am really, really, so very old.

It's a great class, it really is and I'm enjoying it immensely and the professor is brilliant, in a semi-intimidating way. There are also some really good things about going back to take a class when you are not worried about your GPA (more honest writing, only one class's homework, doing the assignments because I want to and because I see their value). It's just that I can't hear any of that over the screaming in my head about how old I am.

"So, who's seen The Sopranos?" Just my hand.

"And I had this Commodore 64. Does everyone know what that is?" Just me nodding my head.

"Well, you know, Harry Potter was the first long book I ever read, when I was about 7 or 8..." Yeah, I read them all in my 20's and 30's.

Also, did you know that Love, Actually is an old movie? It's 11 years old. When did that happen, I ask you?

And then, there's the constant wracking of my brain to try and remember when I understood certain things. How old was I when I figured out that not all break-ups are dramatic? How old was I when I read The Sound and the Fury? How old was I when I all of those things stopped being so serious and all of these things became so serious?

It's good, you know. (That's what I'm telling myself, at least.) It's good to be around younger people and listen to them talk, learn how they see the world. These kids have never lived in the world of the "car phone." They would have no idea how to use a rotary dial. They haven't seen You Can't Do That On Television and their Nick at Nite shows Friends. What is that like? What is it like to not remember life without a computer in your pocket?

I do not know. Because this voice won't shut up.

You know, my mom is 29. She's been 29 for *mumblecough* years. I laugh at that. I am 35. 35! Shout it from the rooftops. 35 is the new black. I don't mind getting old. I like my gray. I can't wait for glasses, and am so very excited that I sometimes have to wear readers. Readers! So cute!

So, I don't even know why this is bothering me so much. Why that voice is so freaking loud. I also don't know when fan fiction became all legit and stuff. Becausen I'm old.


Suze said...

Ha ha! I'm old too.
You are SO cute in those glasses.
I'm so over corrected vision, though. Been doing THAT since I was 6!

Suze said...

Also, WHAT gray? Where??
I have enough that my kids are like, "Ooh, mom I can see all your gray hair around your face!"

Jessi said...

Yeah, I get that corrected vision isn't a sign of aging for everyone. Thanks. I really love them. When I get to the point where I need real glasses, I want ones just like the $5 one from Wal-Mart. Lol.

I have gray. It's just mixed in, so it's harder to see. The pink helps too. It's distracting. :)

Lisa said...

I deal with this every day at school. Because it's my first year teaching, I'm still shocked by the difference, not just in pop culture knowledge, but actual history. We were in school on September 11th, so of course we spent time in class talking about it. The students were asking,"So, what actually happened? Why is today a big deal?" They were 3 years old. They never experienced airport security before 9/11, or a world without smart phones, or the idea of encyclopedias…in book form.
I don't have gray hair yet, but that's only because I haven't stopped dying it long enough to find out. It could be there. I'm pretty sure it will be by the end of this year. :)

Lisa said...

Oh and I also love your glasses! (And that scarf!)