Things that have, in recent memory, made me feel old

In no particular order:

  • Buying a set of canisters intended to reorganize my pantry. On purpose. This was the first tangible object I bought for myself that was not food in…longer than I really care to think about.
  • Thinking about my favorite roleplaying campaign I’ve ever been involved in, and realizing it began 13 years ago.
  • Having a hard time finding someone to watch Rear Window with me, because it is old.
  • Having a hard time finding a text-based guide for a game I was playing, and realizing that this is because everyone and their dog is doing things on YouTube now.
  • Listening to a podcast episode about this year’s “summer jams” and having the disconcerting sensation that a lot of the music wasn’t for me (though there was certainly a good bit that I liked!)
  • Largely not being on social media, and being okay with that.
  • Sitting down to write here, being fully aware that a substantial portion of the world does not read anything larger than a tweet.
  • Feeling like fonts with serifs are okay, actually.
  • A sense of passionate objection to microtransactions in games, especially games one has already purchased.
  • Simultaneous appreciation for streaming services and discomfort with the idea of never actually owning anything.
  • Listening to my husband talk about some potential new hires.
  • Eating some just-barely-cooked vegetables and finding them weirdly delicious.
  • Gathering for dinner with friends and reflecting that actually everyone was talking about management problems now instead of the sort of work problems I remember from some decades ago.
  • Being reminded that I should consider doing some estate planning activities.

The funny thing here here is that, as I have said before, no matter how long my body has been active upon this earth, all of the selves I have been are present in it.

The little girl who made of a rocking-horse Christmas ornament a little adventure all round the tree, only to cringe in shame and clam up when she realized her father was videotaping her is still here.

So is the teenager who just didn’t get why her friends were going on about romantic movies all the time and kept a kind of exchange diary with her then-bestie that probably contained some deeply cringey adventure fiction (but was great for maintaining her sanity.)

So is the college student who stayed at the computer labs until they closed, went for chicken strips once a week at a dive-y student bar, and somehow gained a reputation for being the Person Who Knew Things About Books Or Mythology.

I am simultaneously all of those people.

In a way, age is really just a sign that one has accumulated a large number of selves; that one has become many. Some day (hopefully) there will be many of me here indeed.

It’s funny to think about.

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