Man, I’m feeling my 42 years lately. I was never a spry, full of energy kind of person, but being sore and tired are things that are becoming a way of life for me now. Lower back pain and stiffness, my left elbow and forearm ache, and my knees are starting to make sounds like an antique rocking chair. I don’t know what to think. Am I falling apart? Has my warranty expired and now all those outdated pieces that kept me together for so long finally starting to reject me? Is this really what getting old is?
I’ve never had a problem with getting old. In fact, mentally I feel more in tune with myself than I ever did when I was 20, 25, or 30 years old. Being over the hill suits me just fine, and the further away I get from the selfie generation, the better. Youtube stars, twerking, beard culture, craft meateries, things foxes say, skinny jeans,…I just wasn’t meant for these times, man. I can’t relate to any of it. I feel completely antiquated and alienated from these current trends, yet my daughter thinks I’m a hipster. Why? Because I drink craft beer out of a pint glass and spin vinyl. That’s not being a hipster. That’s just having good taste, people. I own a pour-over and I like it. I buy coffee beans online, so what? I’m not following trends, just my taste buds. I also still occasionally listen to Dokken and Yngwie Malmsteen. I don’t think hipsters do that, just 42 year olds that have stopped giving a shit about what’s cool and what’s not cool.
If I dig it, I go with it.
When you’re officially over the hill you need to stop caring about what others think or if what you’re doing would be considered passe, dated, or just not cool. I don’t care if it’s not cool, if I want to watch cartoons with my son for 3 hours I will. I’m finding great literature and art in comic book stores and I think that’s pretty amazing. I’m loving doom metal and stoner metal and I don’t get high. I just love the riffs and the darkness within it. I’m becoming a sci-fi geek for the first time in my life. My wife and I still occasionally go to concerts, and we leave before the encore is over so we don’t have to fight traffic. Wanna make something of it? I’ve considered buying a bottle of scotch and seeing if it fits me. I still may at some point. I don’t take any prescription meds but I fear I may have to someday because of heredity. I love concert t-shirts but hate that they shrink in weird spots after about two washes. There’s a stack of Marvel Zombies books on my nightstand my son wants me to read, and I will read them right after I finish Alan Moore’s V For Vendetta. I’m most content sitting in my Lazy Boy with a stout next to me and a record spinning on a Friday night while the kids are in their rooms doing their thing and my wife is on her laptop on the couch. I don’t like being on the go. I’m a homebody. I workout usually 4 days a week, but the last two weeks have been pretty sketchy due to head colds and phantom muscle pain.
Muscle pain. I’m back to that. This is the part of getting old that I don’t much care for. I can’t just move heavy objects like I used to without a joint or muscle arguing with me for two weeks with pain and spasms. Getting up on ladders seems like risking certain death. Big cities kind of freak me out. Heavy traffic freaks me out. Driving at night freaks me out. Being up past midnight feels like I’m playing with fire, like at any moment I’m going to turn into a Gremlin. Or a pumpkin. The idea of an alternate universe, with an alternate version of me really freaks me out. Cause what if the alternate version of me takes selfies, twerks, or loves Youtube stars? What if that version of me has a craft beard, and bottles his own hard cider in some chic outhouse just outside an alternate universe Buffalo, New York or Portland? What if that bastard wears skinny jeans and listens to Imagine Dragons and 5 Seconds of Summer??? God, I hate my alternate self already.
Though, I bet he still has back pain.