February 2, 2005

I'm. Getting. Older

The following things have happened or been realized, yet in no particular order. I have...

• grasped the concept of organization...
• commenced the use of matching socks in earnest...
• developed less of a propensity to put up with loud music...
• become more patient on average...
• become less tolerant of stupidity, but use more tact when dealing with it...
• started to weigh options and consequences sooner and with more gravity.

Which all made me realize...

I'm. Getting. Older.

Should one even try to combat this? Why fight what's obviously inevitable?

After about four or five years in retirement my father went back to work last month. The Broward County Public Defender's Office will have the best early representation unit in the State of Florida because of it, but why head back to put up with more bureaucracy?

By nature he's got a few years on me. I'm sure some level of boredem crept into his decision, and while he might excuse it as something to pass the time, or occupy his mind, I argue he still wants to contribute to the greater good.

So is that how it's done? Are we to keep working past legal retirement age to make sure the juices keep flowing and our knees don't give out? There have to be other ways to keep things going, but what? Not everyone can become a U.N. envoy for tsunami relief in retirement, so how does one keep giving without having to "work" longer in life. Granted, if you do a job you love you'll never work a day in your life. But everything must eventually end.

On top of that, I think I finally get the thing about the little red sports car, too. If I'd always wanted one and had the means, I'd buy it.

The mid-life crisis might on the surface appear to be acquiring toys and working past our "prime." It's more like the age-old question of having left some kind of legacy in one's wake.

Through the last six years I've maintained that my age has been decreasing. When asked, I'm 24. Don't believe me? I just got a PlayStation 2 to prove it. Buy Gran Turismo, or any other driving game, and it's just like that little red sports car. But I'm here to tell you the game console has affected me in three very specific ways.

I've sprouted roots from my ass to the couch. My need to return to an exercise routine has renewed with vigor because of the roots sprouted. And -- in keeping with the central thesis -- my hand-eye coordination has returned to when I'd been playing video games 20 years ago.

That last point drives home the old saying "use it or lose it." Playing video games for an extended period helps stave the reality of life, but it all comes flooding back if one doesn't keep track of time when throttling and mashing the game controller.

So rears the ugly head of mid-life crisis. I might say I'm 24 year old, and repeat it so constantly that I begin believing it, but reality is reality. I know my own age, and know it's a bit early to be a real mid-life crisis, but fuck it. I just hope those roots to the couch don't take a stronger hold.

Of the earlier getting-older signs, there's only one to logically remove from the list. White socks will continue to look brainless. Patience, tact, consideration and organization are good attributes to have. So along with my claim of a mere 24 years, I'll reach over to the stereo and crank it up.

- Rich