Time is Weird

Seems like it was just my birthday. Then Halloween. Then Christmas. And now the Valentines are on display at CVS. Time is moving too quickly. Retailers may be rushing the seasons, but time is flying by besides. I wonder why it does so as we age. Perhaps because we live routine lives? But isn't it routine when you're a kid as well? School, homework, a play date here and there. It truly is a mystery, but it seems a cruel one. I'd love to wish winter away, but by doing that I'm wishing away two months of my life. Kids can afford this. I cannot. So I try to appreciate each day despite the weather because I know spring will be here before long, and then summer, and then my birthday. Whoosh! It's dizzying.

Progress is Weird

I have too many damn passwords. Up until the arrival of the Internet I had just one - my ATM password. Now I have several pages of them in all shapes and sizes. Some are variations of that very first password, and some have felines involved. I need to look them up each time I need them. Do I really need a password to order something on line? If I order a jigsaw puzzle do I really need an account? Come on people! Don't take yourselves so seriously. You aren't banks or drugstores, you are merchants. All you need is my mailing address.

There are many progressive things that I love - my Mac (though we're in a fight right now), my Blackberry, the Net. But was it so bad before we had these things? So we weren't in constant contact with others. But we had answering machines that we could check remotely. We had electric typewriters with white-out tape. At least we weren't bumping into people in the street or getting hit by cars while texting. And what's with texting? How do grown men use those tiny little qwerty keyboards? Why can't we just talk?

One thing I do wish we'd had when I was a teen is cell phones. That way I wouldn't have had to sit home all day waiting for a phone call from a boy. Now I sit at Starbucks all day checking my email on the Blackberry. Progress, or just a new normal?

Blogging is subjective

I spent last evening with my good friends Michael and Albert in Warwick NY. Good food, OK wine (my choice) , nice people. Michael says he likes my blog, but that I am only skimming the surface of aging. He thinks I should blog about how old we are and how few years we have left and what's happening to our bodies. But I don't want to blog about that. What's the point?

None of us is stupid. We all have health issues, we all sag in places, we are afraid of death. That having been said, Michael's brother died on 9/11. He doesn't like euphemisms like 'passed' or 'lost'. The guy died. I realize how that could spark some healthy fatalism on his part. But I choose to remain as upbeat as possible for the time being. I still feel sixteen inside, and dammit, I'm not cleaning my room if I don't feel like it!

Death is weird

My dad died Dec 14th. Well, my biological dad. I didn't grow up with him but he became a good friend. He definitely had his faults. He left when I was two, and reappeared when I was 18. In his Dartmouth 25th reunion yearbook , he listed one child - my sister, whom he did raise. This was way after we had reconnected, and it hurt. I was wise enough to realize I shouldn't be a breeder. Perhaps because we are a self-involved group of people and I didn't want to put that on anybody else.

I just found out an old friend from the 80s is now dying. He is a few years younger than I and smoked like a chimney. But it brings to mind my own mortality. Now that my dad is gone, I am next in line. I remember when George Harrison died. He was one of us. It can happen. It is scary. I think I have too much free time.

Impulsivity is Weird

I find as I've gotten older I've gotten more impulsive. And not just "I want that dress" impulsive, but "get me that co-op right now" impulsive, even though I didn't know I needed it ten minutes earlier and hadn't planned on buying property. And now that I'm land poor (land rich? I always confuse them) I go on Overstock and buy a couch I don't need either. I realize that this is all about the dreaded Instant Gratification. I'm not working much right now, I can't seem to work myself up for a love affair and its freakin' winter. (Try never to be unemployed during winter. It sucks. You think you'll go into the city every day to the Frick but it doesn't happen. Instead, I eat too much right here in Larchmont - another form of instant gratification. ) I try not to go to malls much, as this is a recipe for disaster - tho The Westchester food court has some delish babaganoush. If I really need something RIGHT NOW to quell my impulsivity, I look at my last Mastercard statement. And my last unemployment check. Seems to do the trick.

Freelancing is Weird

Since 1993 Ive been a freelance audio mixer. I've been chased by automation since I got into radio way back when, and it has just caught up. But that's another story. Freelancing is a balancing act. You want to be loyal to your employer, but then there will be that one occasion where you can't work and they hire someone as a back-up freelancer. But soon enough, they start giving the back-up person some of your work to keep them fresh. Suddenly, neither of you has enough work. So you find other work and say no more often. Then you are juggling two or more employers, when you would've been fine with the first one if they'd stayed loyal to you, instead of overreacting and watering down the milk, as it were. The juggling was hard back in LA when I had several clients. I would mix a show in the morning and then double dip at a TV station at night. Good money. But what I learned was that as loyal as I have been (cancelling vacations and airline tickets, dates with friends, Broadway show tickets, what have you), employers don't give a fig. You're only as good as your last "Yes, I can work". If only I had an opportunity to say those words now.

Labels are weird

OK, this whole Cougar thing is just nasty. Men aren't labeled when they go after younger women - they are admired. Women who date younger men are labelled Cougars. How ridiculous. Labels are insidious. They tend to take you over. In the early 90s I was in a 12 step group called CODA - CoDependents Anonymous. I was Codependent - wasn't I? Yes and no. I went around with that label in my head for years until I saw that I was also Counter dependent in many ways, and co- in just a few. You can be an Alcoholic without is becoming the only thing you are. It is just one of the things. A cougar is a predator. I am not a predator. Susan Sarandon is not a predator. We are women who are open to men of all ages, as long as they are under 65 (hee hee) and dont like rap. Younger men are more desirable physically, as are younger women. Hopefully most people see beyond that but I guess they really dont. Lets be real. Ageism sucks but it's a reality. What Id really like is to date someone exactly my age - If I could find the boy who was in the basinette next to mine, even better. Then no one could complain. Except me, since it's what I do. "Our birthdays are too close! Its no fun! How can he look so decrepit when I look so great?" But I ain't no Cougar.