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I want it back


shadowgod

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I've turned into what I always feared.

 

Friday night, during a much needed break from History class. ( 3 hours of hell every Friday night) I ventured outside. I normally don't leave the class during break. Simple as There is no where to go, so why even bother, right? Anyhow, this past Friday we had a test, I didn't want to hang around in class whilst the test was still going so I went out into the cold night air. I somehow got mixed up in a group conversation of how much this particular History class ( the professor especially) sucked ass.

 

First, its on a Friday night so that is a big negative off the bat. Now for a list of the remaining negatives:

  • 10 minutes late to class or leaving 10 minutes early you will be marked as absent.
  • When taking a test you A. have to sign in B. have to show that your answer sheet is blank on both sides C. When turning in said test it must be placed directly into the professors hand, not set on the table.
  • The professor can and will mark you down a point if you do not follow his paper formatting to the T. Regardless of the fact his formatting deviates from everyone else's formatting.
  • He looks for obscure answers that are only covered briefly (I.E. one sentence out of 15 paragraphs)
  • The professor is ALWAYS right, any attempt to argue a point, is met with hostility and point reduction.

 

So yeah, not the most enjoyable way to spend a Friday night. Anyhow, a group of us where bemoaning these particular fact when the subject of age came up. It went something like this...

 

20

20

21

21

21

30

 

Old enough to be your mother....(This was the age she gave, honestly)

 

My saying 30 was met with the usual shock it usually gets. I don't look thirty (what does thirty look like??) I don't feel thirty. I don't identify as thirty... On one hand it's cool to know I'm aging well. On the other hand it sucks to age into a bracket I don't fit into.

 

Then again this is nothing new. I've always felt younger then I was. Yet, in the end its a moot point isn't it? one is what one is... you can fight cornucopia of things in life; the day you were conceived isn't one of them. It's just odd to be staring head long at the second half of life, when the first was by and large uneventful.

 

I can honestly say my 20's have been a lost decade. One I feared beyond measure when I was 19 and moving onto 20. But now they seemed to have flown by. Like so many things, it was time wasted. Time wasted working at a job that could never, would never lead anywhere. A decade spent at a comfortable distance from relationships. I couldn't face the fear then, and now I pay the price. Stuck as some middle of the road troll bridging the gap between older generations and newer ones.

 

I cry that the only guys that are attracted to me are 42 and up, when it seems all I am attracted to are 21 and 22 year olds. I realize the hypocracy in the situation. Yet I can't help the attraction. I guess I am destined to be that old troll, 62 years old and trying to strike up a conversation with the thirty year old who looks to be in his younger 20's.

 

The fates do have a twisted sense of humor ...

 

I guess if I ever had one wish, it would be having my physical age and my mental age in line. Whether that means loosing a decade in years, or gaining a decade in life experienced, in life lived; I don't care which, but neither is by any means feasible.

 

I guess thats enough of my irrationality for one day... but before you go I'm going to leave you with a line that has been stuck in my head:

 

The night was crisp, like biting into a cool apple.

 

catch y'all on the flip-side,

 

Steve

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Fantastic. Now I'm somewhat depressed. This is not a feeling I normally associate with beginning my 84 hours of freedom.

 

I'm simply going to have to get drunk on cheap wine and scream scatological deprecations at the tourists I come across. I think I have enough to cover bail (Long Beach takes its image as a haven for the upwardly mobile very seriously), but if I don't, and wind up missing a day or two of the job I hate, it will be all your fault.

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