Old Age @ MindSay 
On the calendar, you're already here, even though TECHNICALLY, you don't start until 6:25 tonight. I guess that means I'm spending today in the weird 'end of 22/start of 23' limbo, the same one that happens every year during the daytime hours.
I'm hoping you're just a little bit better than 22. I'm hoping that having a truly adult age to attach to the question, "how old are you?" (even if I'll ALWAYS act like I'm 7), some adult things will happen. Maybe I'll be comfortable being Emily, whoever she is, and relax a little bit. Maybe I'll keep my promise to not stay in every weekend. Maybe I'll finally get the nerve to meet a guy and pursue something with it. Maybe I'll believe I'm right sometimes, and not back down. Maybe I'll really get to make a difference in somebody's life. There are a lot of maybes floating around right now; I think that's a good thing.
So....
Welcome.
the song I WANTED to put here, "Jessie's Song (Optimistic Story)" isn't a track listing, but you can imagine...
http://elanaarian.com/listen.html
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, because I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
Old Age, I decided, is a gift. Mind you, I am not quite there, but I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt, etc. And often I am taken aback by that older person that lives in my mirror,but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for fewer gray hairs or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with maturity.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 & 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.
They, too, will get old soon enough.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think . I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being older. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it) ;)
~B
P.S. I just made my travel plans to go for another visit to Charleston ... with a stop off in Savannah to see my soldiergirl! YAY!!! :D
Conversation with the demigoddess on the way to the Cingular Store:
HER: Mommy, did they have phones when you were born?
ME: (trying to collect myself. I'm not THAT old!) Uh... yes honey, they did, but not cell phones, though.
HER: Oh, ya'll only had homophones?
That stinker!
I didn't get home from studying until about 2:00 this morning. I took a shower and tried to go to bed. I laid there in the dark with my eyes closed for about an hour. I set my alarm clock for 6 AM so I could get up and get ready for school, but sleep never came! By the time I said "forget it, it ain't happening", It was 5:30! I just stayed up. When I got on the bus it was so damned crowded that I had to stand for a part of the trip. Therefore, I couldn't sleep on the bus.
When I got off the first bus, it seemed like the second bus took a lifetime to arrive. It was hot as hell! A young brotha was pacing back and forth with sweat pouring down his shirt. Poor thing! He looked like he was dressed for a job interview or something. I understood why he was pacing -- it was too hot to stand still. You had to distribute the heat evenly around your body. I had an umbrella and it still didn't block the sun that well. When second bus finally came, I thought I would shout for joy! When it let me off I still had to walk about a quarter mile to get to my class. By the time I got to the building where my class was held, I sounded like Darth Vader! I quickly went to the restroom to freshen up. Nobody wants to sit next to a sweaty person for an hour and a half.
Class was okay. I made sure I sat in the very front because the professor can be hard to hear sometimes. Thank God I read ahead! I felt like I knew what he was talking about. I didn't even need to refer to my $20 coloring book! LOL! About a half hour before class was supposed to end, I started getting sleepy. I had to fight like hell not to fall asleep in class. I was right in front of his face for crying outloud!
I had a three hour break before my next class so I decided to have lunch and hang out at the University Center (the UC). This is where I really started feeling old. Some Greek letter organizations were advertising for rush. Many of them showcased their organization by doing a step presentation. I was shocked at the fact that it wasn't just the black Greek organizations stepping. Everybody was stepping. Phi Mu did a *stroll! This is when I went into my sorority girl state of mind. I was suddenly transported back in time to the fall of 1995. I pledged Zeta Phi Beta in the spring of '94 so my neophyte days were coming to an end. We had strong representation on the yard (campus). We weren't the largest sorority, but we were popular and boy could we step! The Phi Epsilon chapter of Zeta Phi Beta was known for being beautiful and winning many step competitions, not to mention our tireless voter registration campaign. Anyway, calls and chants were going through my head. As I watched the other sororities muddle through their steps I mentally criticized their precision and lackluster showmanship. When I started criticizing the song choices I soon came back to the present. It's 2007. I'm 34 years old and it's about 147 degrees outside. What the hell am I doing out here gettin' hype with people a little more than half my age? The rigorous stuff we did back when I was on the yard to prepare for a stepshow would be the end of my knees today!
I finally went to my next class and found out it was cancelled. Bugger! It was nice that I could go home early, but it was 2:30 in the afternoon meaning it was the hottest time of the day. I decided to brave the elements and hike the now half mile back to the bus stop. A half mile doesn't sound like much, but in 94 degree weather with a dewpoint of 72 degrees it felt like a death march. On the way to the bus stop I saw people passing out campus maps and bottles of water. That's how you know a campus is too damned big!
By the way, my sorors have a new *stroll that I am dying to learn!
Sorors from a Zeta Phi Beta graduate chapter in Boston doing the "Dutty Wine Stroll"
* A stroll is a series of moving steps usually done at parties or anytime large groups of Greek lettered organizations (primarily African-American Greek lettered organizations) get together for informal functions. Each organization has strolls that are unique to its group.