Rising Up From The Ashes

As you may already know, I am 41. Much older than I ever thought I would live to see. Funny thing is though that most people guess me to be much younger than that. I am still carded on occasion (and not just by those who check the IDs of everyone) and have even gotten into arguments with people who insist I am using a fake ID because there is no way I am “that old.” Most of my friends tend to be younger than I and at my 40th birthday party several could not attend because they were not old enough to get into the club. More than once people have guessed that friends of mine, who are in their 20s, are older than I am. Incredibly amusing to me, only slightly so to them. Although most of my grey hairs are kept under wraps by the various hair colors I continue to enjoy, I have far more wrinkles than I would like and the girls are certainly not as perky as they used to be so it cannot be the physical. I suspect the reason is because of attitude.

A few weeks ago a friend flew in for a visit. When I mentioned that things were shitty, he responded with, “Well, you still have your job and a steady income so you are doing better than lots of folks.” What the hell? I don’t define myself by my job. There are so many more important things to me in life than money. I was referring to being sad about the state of my relationship with that special person in my life. Something that actually means something to me. Fuck! Sad thing is that a couple years ago this guy felt the same way. He turned 30 last year and apparently drank the Kool-aid that same day. Years ago I used to earn the big bucks. Put on my several thousand dollar suit every day, grabbed my equally expensive briefcase and raced off to work bright and early. My competitive nature enjoyed the challenge. I was good at it. Went to Vegas about once a month just to blow off steam. Would wander into a store and buy $500 watches in every color so I didn’t have to make up my mind which was my favorite. A trip to the book store required multiple trips out to the truck just to carry all that I had purchased; even though I would never have time to actually read them. I bought boxes and boxes of shoes that would never be worn. Used cash to buy myself a ring that was worth as much as a new car and went back a month later for matching earrings. When I went back the next month for the ruby pinkie ring I finally realized that I was out of control. My life sucked. I wasn’t happy. Had no meaningful relationships, no time to relax and do the things I enjoyed, but I had money burning a hole in my pocket and more *stuff* than I knew what to do with. Quit the job. Quit busting my ass. Quit thinking about money. Quit thinking about myself all the time. As those of you who actually know me are aware, if anything I may have gone too far. I am now too financially irresponsible. I’ll give my last $20 to a friend who needs it rather than pay my own bills. I take people out to dinner to celebrate engagements, divorces, new jobs, new homes, new pets, anything. I’ll spend money I don’t have on a present that I think someone will love. Stupid and immature? Sure! I am broke most of the time but I have a hell of a lot more fun. I started weeding out people who are draining. “Friends” who take more than they are willing to give. Drama queens and the uptight. Users and abusers. Time for them to go. If we like each other, I’ll do anything for you. If not, then let’s stop wasting our time. I don’t like to carry grudges. Don’t want to have to distrust someone, force myself to spend time with them or worry about what is going on behind my back. I decided that either people are important enough, special enough, for me to forgive and forget or we should just go our separate ways.

It seems that most people start to grow old in their mid to late 20s. It solidifies in their 30s and it is all downhill from there. That is when most people decide that they have to grow up. They feel that they must pick a direction and commit to it. They decide on a career. They decide that it is time to get married and so they pick out someone who is handy and who has also decided that it is time to get married and they ‘settle down.’ Yeah, there is a good way to begin your life together, by settling. Hell, romantic relationships scare the crap out of me but I would much rather find someone willing to risk it all and commit to an adventure together than to settle for a damn thing. Sure, settling is safer, not so scary, and much more mature. It is perhaps the grown up thing to do but oh so bland. No wonder they can’t stand each other in a couple years. I say, grab a backpack and run off to another continent together. Sure, you will cuss each other out for getting lost, be cold and miserable in the rain when you realize that neither of you packed a jacket or an umbrella, or get frustrated when he/she wants to tour yet another museum but what memories will be made. Who knows? Maybe you will grow closer. Maybe you will decide that you cannot stand each other. Either way, it sure beats falling into society’s predefined roles for people. He must have a 9-5 job, take out the trash, mow the lawn, change the oil in the car and, most importantly, earn enough support the family and buy a house. She must do the cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shop, remember birthdays for both his and her families, perhaps have a job (but god forbid she earn more than him!), and care for the kids. Of course there are kids…that is what people do. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that there is anything wrong with any of that. If it is what you really want. What bothers me is that people are pressured to make these decisions so young and then feel stuck for the rest of their life. They start to define themselves by a label, even if it is one of their own choosing, and don’t feel free to explore or learn new things. “I can’t do that. I am a wife/husband/parent/scientist/salesman/banker/whatever.” Fuck that! I didn’t forget how to change a tire when I got married. Sure as hell did not find myself with a burning passion to clean house. Certainly did not cut all of my male friends out of my life. I love science and chemistry in particular but guess what, I also have fun drawing up astrological charts and enjoy numerology. I have superstitions and good luck charms. I believe in magic and ghosts. I know, they are not scientific. I don’t care!

People get old because they stop trying new things. They stop learning. They insist on fitting into their mold and don’t want to look foolish experimenting with something different. They decide on what they like and don’t like when they are young and then just repeat the same shit over and over again until the day they die. They are friends with people who are just like themselves and are never exposed to the odd, the unusual, or anything new. There is no excitement, no mystery, no amazement, no challenge. They have settled into routines that could be done by a robot. Content but dull. Lacking struggle. Lacking failures and successes. No wonder they seem old; they are the walking dead.

Some people don’t like me and get frustrated because I refuse to define myself (actually, there are lots of good reasons not to like me). I refuse to pick a role, a label, a place in society, and stick with it. I collect undergrad degrees because so many different things interest me. On top of that I take community ed classes on other, lighter, subjects. I am always in the middle of at least three books I am reading just for fun. I can never learn enough. When I say I am throwing on my boots and going dancing, you never know if it is Docs and I am heading to a mosh pit somewhere or my Tony Lamas for some two-stepping at a country western bar. Salsa classes start in a few weeks… (although I won’t be wearing boots for that!) I can put on my white linen suit, call the VIP line at one of the fanciest restaurants in town and go out to dinner tonight or I can climb out of my truck that I slept in overnight, wearing the same clothes from two days ago and stumble into my favorite coffee house to chat with people who just rolled into town on the train. Both are good ways to spend my time as far as I am concerned. Hell, I might do them both in the same day. For that matter, I may just wear the torn jeans and raggedy tee to the fancy restaurant and the suit to the café, just to shake things up. I do stuff like that. Drives most people nuts! I like to mess with their preconceived ideas.

I have had friends who say to me, wistfully, “Oh, I remember when I used to do that.” These are people who are 27 years old! What the hell??? Fine, if it was something you used to do but quit because you no longer enjoy it but otherwise why would you ever stop? To fit into some mold that your parents, social class, teacher, significant other, religious figure chose for you? If you want to be an artist and your parents want you to go into business, that is their problem! If your neighbor doesn’t like that you practice throwing your whip in the backyard, fuck him! If your wife thinks you are nuts for dressing up like Gene Simmons and going to the KISS concert, too bad! Go anyway and have a blast! (she’ll think twice when you show her you have mastered that tongue thing) I will never understand people who don’t want the people they are close to to have different interests. Who think that now that you are friends/lovers you should stop doing some activity that he/she is not involved in. Hell, I have exactly the opposite problem. I want to learn about that interest. Maybe I would like it too. Not because I think we should do everything together, that just gets irritating and I value my time alone, but because it might be fun. I have learned lots of new things that way and picked up several new hobbies over the years because of the exposure.

When we are young we try new things all the time. Someone says, “Hey, you wanna go rollerblading/wind surfing/build a fort/climb the water tower/taste this dog food?” We say, “Sure!” We grab cardboard or rope or nothing and we are on our way. Never mind that we have no clue what the hell we are doing. As we get older we worry about looking foolish, getting hurt, how much it is going to cost, if there will be enough time to get our homework or house work or other tasks done. Kids just want to spend time with their pal and try something new. Looking goofy and skinned knees are just the price to pay. Kids know that there is always time to memorize the geologic periods, write a thank you card, or vacuum later on. Sure, once in a while mom/dad/teacher yells at you but it was soooo worth it! I think it is a shame that so many people lose that. Perhaps I am the one missing out but I never want to become so grown up and responsible that I miss those opportunities and am afraid to take those chances. I would rather stay immature, and if need be, alone, than stop trying and learning new things. Can’t imagine why they keep wanting to give it all up.

I may end up a crazy old cat lady but I just know that my grey hair will be dyed every color of the rainbow and I am going to have all those cats tethered to a flashy wagon pulling me around the neighborhood. I want a horn too!