Someone commented here recently that she senses spiritual growth happening in my life. I hate to say this, but she’s wrong. I just spent nearly two hours trying to figure out how to restore some gems from the old Walden Cabin site to this “new” one. Why? I haven’t written a bloody thing in nearly a year, and I’m grouchy. So I resurrect some old Maclean’s pieces I published, and pop up some Jordan or Alaska photos from press trips, and I have this sense of accomplishment. Meanwhile, all the software I used to play with to edit this site since I started blogging in 2001 (yes, five years ago!), has changed. Figuring out the new Dreamweaver is not a good way to relax on a Sunday night.
The thing is, I feel old. My sister-in-law (who is even older) said, “Well, you are” when I mentioned this. So much for comfort. I know I should run more, meditate more, eat better. Maybe I feel this way because I’m working with a bunch of attractive 20-somethings. We all get along, but it bothers me to think that maybe they see me as the old boss. I know I felt that way about my nearly-forty boss when I was 22.
The widening gap between me and youth may also get more painful. You can’t hold out hope for finally having a fun-filled and carefree youth when you’re no longer young. When I was in my early twenties, I wasn’t a partier. I didn’t have nearly enough sex. Or experiment and take chances. I really, really regret all this, now. I’ve got a great life, but one thing I want my kids to do is take their time growing up. It will happen soon enough.
So here’s what I’m going to do. Instead of buying a sports car, next week I’m getting my eyes lasered. I’m going to take my father-in-law’s advice and dye the grey out of my hair (he believes if you see grey in the mirror, your immune system begins to shut down). And if the young staff invite me out, I’ll definitely say yes.