A Few Things That Are Different

I’m older now (in 6 days I’ll be older still) and a lot has changed since I was young, hearing and brash. Like what, you might be wondering.

I don’t drink beer anymore—haven’t in almost 30 years actually. The turning point came when Jen and I visited friends in Venice (Italy, not California). One doesn’t drink ale in Italy, fer fuck’s sake. When we returned to Cambridge (Massachusetts, not England), we found we’d lost our taste for the yeasty, hoppy stuff.

Food-wise—while I’ll occasionally have fish (salmon tacos MMMMMMMM), I don’t eat meat, shellfish or other sea beasties anymore. I don’t crave it. No, not even bacon, lamb or calamari. Also, I’m not as gustatorily adventurous as I once was. Though I’ve tried alligator (tastes like really tough chicken), boar (drier than liver and tastes like spoiled and puked on sneaker soles) and blood pudding (surprisingly, not bad at all). I won’t be sampling dog, bear or other sorts of roadkill, unlike a certain wack-a-loon independent presidential candidate who we’ll leave unnamed.

I’m no longer insecure about my intelligence. That is, I don’t give a good goddamn whether someone thinks I’m dim or not. I know that I’m no Marie Curie but I’ll never be as stupid and delusional as a Trump either.

I enjoy some of those games and list requests that I see on social media. The latest one asked folks to name songs which included certain things in their title, such as:

    Place — Kashmir, Led Zeppelin
    Animal — Cat’s in the Cradle, Harry Chaplin
    Number — One, Three Dog Night
    Color — Purple Rain, Prince
    Girl’s name — Layla, Derek and the Dominos
    Boy’s name — Jeremy, Pearl Jam
Day of the Week— Pleasant Valley Sunday, The Monkees
    Weather — Rain, Beatles

My Time Waster activities don’t need to be sage, scholarly or even creative.

I don’t feel guilty for having boundaries. They exist for a reason. They protect me from emotional vampires, thoughtless people who take gross advantage. Boundaries save me from idiots who lack even a morsel of self-awareness—they condescend and insult others in order to prop up their rickety inner-selves. I simply don’t have the time or energy for that shit anymore.

I’m less prone to overanalyzing every last little thing. Make no mistake—I still think way too much about things that upset me. It’s just that now, once I’ve scrutinized the fuck out of a situation, I can let it go. I can move on.

They say that the left side of the brain
Controls the right
They say that right side
Has to work hard all night
Maybe I think too much for my own good
Some people say so
Other people say, “No no
That fact is
You don’t think as much as you could”

I had a childhood that was mercifully brief
I grew up in a state of disbelief
I started to think too much
When I was twelve going on thirteen
Me and girls from St. Augustine
Up in the mezzanine
Thinking about God
~ Think Too Much (a), Paul Simon

Cats. I’m all about cats and that’s okay. Maybe I’ve always been this way? Someone on Threads asked “what will we post about when Harris/Walz wins?” My response? Cats 24/7! And I mean it—I could watch pet videos all day, every day. Okay, I’d take a break every now and then for vampire comedies. Have I mentioned What We Do In The Shadows? Yes, I guess I have. What about Reginald the Vampire? Yes, this one too?

The most significant change is, possibly, that I’m more able to laugh at social simpletons and bullies now.