quote: Most people are scared, indeed, terrified of old age because they feel that aging is characterized by a progressive loss of essential body functions that they have learnt to take for granted over the years; for instance, loss of vision, hearing, teeth, memory, intelligence, sexual drive, muscle strength and vigour. However, it needs to be emphasized that you can become old healthily; remember that old age does not necessarily mean progressive deterioration or susceptibility to a plethora of ailments!
Last night, after drinking myself into a state of peace, I suggested that we watch Mallrats, by Kevin Smith. I was eager to re-visit this film from my youth, as I remembered it being sharp and kooky. "It's stupid, but good..", I assured my host as I pressed enter on the DVD remote. And so, another wedge was driven between myself and my past. Mallrats is terrible, with a moronic script and universally shite performances. Did I really think that a film that kicks off with a joke about farting during oral sex was any good? Sadly, yes. I fear for Clerks, which I probably can never bring myself to watch again.
Disappointed with my teenage self, I stuck on VH2, and was treated to a rundown of tunes from ten years ago. Radiohead's Creep, Pulp's Common People, Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Under the Bridge. As I sat under a duvet, warm tin clasped in hand, I realised that ten years ago, I was probably in exactly the same position. Sitting, dumbfaced, with a beer. The only difference being that I had fewer failures under my belt back then.
but this isn't about me!
I realise that I'm probably one of the younger members of the forum, and will be shouted down for even daring to talk about age, but it's starting to concern me. The reasons for this are obvious, but they don't make the pain any less sharp. It started last year, and has grown since. Increasing nostalgia, more aches and pains, less general resiliance. I even seem physically bigger than I did two or three years ago. I can't really remember what I thought when I was a teenager, but I know that I assumed that things would be generally better, that I would grow into success and responsibility.
I was wondering. I was wondering if forumites feel this sense of age, and if so, when did it kick in? Was there a specific moment? And how does it feel, how does your life now relate to how you had assumed it would go? Do you have ways of avoiding it, or are you ploughing towards retirement with a sense of peace?
Too many questions, so really, just how do you feel about getting older, do you notice it, and are you realising the dreams that you had?
I worry constantly about the fact that my thirties appear to have disappeared without me seeming to have a proper career, any achievements, any greater wisdom or, indeed any children. I feel like I drifted through life in a bubble with my equally non-achieving friends, so I felt I wasn't falling behind, and now the bubble has burst and compared to most people my age I'm an abject failure. And will probably never have children, a fact which is causing me to wake up sweating in the middle of the night. And no, it's not a hot flush.
Still, getting older's better than the alternative. And I may have absorbed some wisdom by osmosis, without really knowing.
Ben Wey - excuse me for speaking out of turn, and like a disapproving aunt, but might your general aches and pains and flab be down to drinking lots of lager and not eating any decent food? Just a crazy theory.
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Yeah, the changes just happen, both mentally and physically, and it's really weird when you suddenly notice them. And I'm not even 40 yet (er, a couple of months to go anyway).
Physically: I find it takes me several days to get over aches and pains and muscle stiffness if I've done some sort of unusual exercise like building a fence in the garden last weekend. Full scale bruises from paintball hits took ages to go away from my skin when they only left a little red mark on my 13-year-old and were gone in a couple of hours. It's that sort of thing that surprises you.
Mentally: It's having to play the parent which is really shocking for me as I still associate myself with being the teenager and kind of watch myself with deep loathing as I tell my own teenager off, but I have to do it. I even use my own dad's phrases and they sound stupid to me even as I'm saying them, but there doesn't seem to be any other way of putting it. "Work hard for a couple of years now and the rest of your life will be a piece of piss. Fuck about now and you'll spend your whole life doing shit jobs for no money." Who the hell listens to advice like that when they're 14? No one. But who wouldn't at least attempt to get that message across when they're an adult that wishes they'd become a dentist or something with a guaranteed well-paid job for life? Not that I'd want to be a dentist, but that sort of thing - bit of hard work followed by simple life of pleasure and the freedom to live wherever you want because you're in demand everywhere.
I'm not looking forward to not being able to do sex though. When does that happen? But I believe Viagra has fixed that anyway hasn't it?
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not...
You reached over with your hand and knocked my Jap over
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I began to get an uneasy sense of mortality around about 27 followed by increasing sense of panic up to and around the age of 29. Hitting 30 was almost a relief as I didn't have to worry about people constantly badgering me about "nearly being 30" anymore and anyhow I felt more self assured. 3 years on and ageing doesn't bother me... I'm like "C'mon bring it on motherfucker" but this is perhaps because I have taken steps to become a fully fledged metrosexual like kovacs and therefore am physically more beautiful (in my own opinion) than I have ever been before.
I'm happy being an early thirty something. I expect to begin the panic cycle again at around 37.
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You can't expect everything to stay brilliant can you? When I was in my early teens, I was totally obsessed by Robin Hood Prince of Thieves and would watch it every day in the holidays. I first read LOTR at the age of 15 and it became my favourite book, and it still is. Some things stay with you, some things are offloaded by the wayside as you "mature".
I wouldn't worry too much about losing Mallrats. I've lost The Catcher In The Rye, but still have Dirty Dancing.
On a more general morose note, it was a year ago this week that I was having the Greatest Three Days Of My Life, culminating in the Greatest Day Of All:
I knew absolutely that my life had just peaked. I tried not to be melodramatic about it, but I really can't think of anything that could possibly top it. I mean, what? Sure, I'll have plenty more great times with my mates and all, but they won't be something that I'd waited and saved up for for so long.
Everything's been pretty much downhill since then really; a bit more haggard every day, knowing I won't be able to keep up this lard intake: weight ratio indefinitely, increasing bitterness at the world in general, encroaching spinsterhood etc etc.
It's not really as bleak as it sounds, though! I have spent most of this year in a generally-content-ok frame of mind. I am looking forward to being an eccentric old woman.
-------------------- What I object to is the colour of some of these wheelie bins and where they are left, in some areas outside all week in the front garden. Posts: 4941
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firstly, i'm beginning to believe that the tmoforumites lives/thought patterns are slowly sychronising in the manner of cohabitating womens menstrual cycles. or it might all be coincidence. or paranoia. anyway. we were going to watch 'mall rats' last evening. instead we chose 'my first mister'. enjoyable.
also - was thinking of aging this very morning.
i've felt 'older' for as long as i can remember. by 'older', i'd say somewhere in my mid-forties. i've felt this way for so long my actual age can suprise me as well as others. i turned 29 at the end of october. instead of being worried that i-am-almost-thirty, i was pleasantly reminded i-am-only-almost-thirty.
i feel older because i worry. i worry often, i worry well and i worry thoroughly. i can't remember a time in my life where worry wasn't my constant companion. in fact, here's my worry about aging.
i worry that i am so obsessed with eating heathily, avoiding smoke-chemicals-preservatives, applying sunscreen, getting enough sleep, taking my vitamins, above and beyond teeth brushing and getting enough exerise - all in the name of aging well- that i will turn 88, feel great, but never have lived.
unless of course all my worry causes a heart attack. but i'll try not to think about that.
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quote:Originally posted by Grianagh: last evening. instead we chose 'my first mister'. enjoyable.
Ah so that's what it's called in Engrish. Yes, Albert Brooks was fucking ace as the totally normal dude. And thingie was almost as good (if not better) as the fucked-up teen. And the srcipt was good. And it was all done very tenderly.
Sory no opinions on ageing at the moment. Maybe later.
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quote:Originally posted by Vogon Poetess: I knew absolutely that my life had just peaked. I tried not to be melodramatic about it, but I really can't think of anything that could possibly top it. I mean, what? Sure, I'll have plenty more great times with my mates and all, but they won't be something that I'd waited and saved up for for so long.
Don't worry, you'll get to do it all over again once Peter Jackson completes his rumoured Silmarillion project!
[ 03.12.2004, 07:33: Message edited by: My Name Is Joe ]
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I suppose in the seven ages of man I'm somewhere between the Soldier and the Justice. No longer am I quick to quarrel but the round belly full of chicken (or however it goes) is certainly something I've had to deal with in recent times. For at least the last five years I've been inwardly trying to convince myself that I'm still young whilst telling anyone who'll listen what an old bastard I am.
You're asking about specific moments when age concern kicked in, young Benway, but I think it's harder to pin down than that. I haven't suddenly stumbled across a yardstick somewhere over the hill and had some giant gumbie epiphany; it's a combination of lots of little things. Maybe the stark realisation comes when I have the time to reflect, to stitch these things together in a depressing patchwork of doom.
Age alarm bells can fall into a number of categories, some of which you mention:
The physical Blossoming girth, failure to deflect hangovers properly, lack of body bouncebackability - as if someone has been steadily removing coil after coil from your body's shock absorbers. Children are made from sturdy rubber, pensioners from, I don't know, the inside of a Crunchie; I'm somewhere in the middle - still solid but with all the give of a house brick.
The Mental Memory. Mine used to be great. Facts, recollecting personal experiences, names and faces, films, books, facts, names and faces - 10 out of 10. These days, I have to talk out loud when carrying out even basic everyday tasks in order to not forget things. "Trousers round ankles first, sit down. Arrgh, Don't forget to wipe, Jonesy" that kind of thing. Drugs - they break you. Trips, for example. As far as I'm concerned, they're a young person's drug, like Sunny Delight. All that colourful, creative goodness swirling round your little head is for playing games and being carefree. Once you're old enough to really worry about the world then hallucinogenic drugs should be top of your list of concerns (i.e. you should concern yourself with never touching them again)
What they see. I'm a paranoid individual...you've possibly noticed, so imagining how other people view me could easily be clouded by that. But I've always seen paranoia as a useful stop valve to keep the world in check. There have been a few moments when buying clothes in recent years where I've picked up an item and thought, stop, you're too old to pull that off, Granddad. People will look at you and shake their heads (then they'll probably hunt you down and kill you). This clothing dilemma isn't to do with the passing of my more youthful figure (see Physical) but just a feeling that people over thirty trying to look like teenagers are...well, the kind of group I don't want to be part of. Dancing is another example. If a man is dancing at 23:59 on his 29th birthday, he might look the nuts, 60 seconds later his grooves turn into a pumpkin and he's Uncle Wedding Dancer.
Smell Children smell great, don't they? Even relatively old children can run around all day in a park, wear the same T shirt two days in a row and come up smelling of roses. I fucking reek, man. When I wake up in the morning my mouth taste like a skunk's behind after an Imodium vindaloo.
Sight Mine is still working. 20/20. Hooray! It will break at age 40, same as both my Mum's and Dad's.
Touch I can still touch people without being thought of as sleazy. I think.
Sound When you are 32 you write things like this post, you sound like a cnut, hence the term "Old Cnut"
Taste See buying clothing (What they see.)
Rambling See This Entire Post. Also "Walks".
Actually, the worst ever moment of age concern is when a child in the street refers to you as "Man". "Mummy, why can't I have an ice-cream? That Man's got one."
posted
Indeed. I find 'madam' pretty soul-destroying. The canny shopworker uses 'Miss' to great 'ooh, young man. do you mean me?' *bat bat* effect.
Realised the other day that by my age my mother had borne three children, had one of them die, had built three houses, and launched a magazine which eventually became Which. Posts: 4537
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Turning down casual sex because "I really want to wake up in my own bed" and crying at the sight of old people (interestingly, this is also a trait of extreme infancy) are two other sure fire signs that your best years are behind you.
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I am scared of my 25th, just round the corner. I am thinking of myself as a major failure. I am still temping for brook st (untill the 20th dec, when i become a permenant member of staff selling shit broadband products to people over the phone) I have literally no money (paid £20 today cos i was sick last week) supposed to pay £50 for bills for the flat to one of my house mates on the 30th nov, didnt have that then and "see above" i still dont have it now. Mum asks what do you want for your B-day (i want a clean arse from my B-day) "i want you to pay another months rent for me" yaay celebration. What i really want for my birthday (and christmas if needs be) is someone elses comfy existance, or maybe a time machine to go back and actually give a fuck about my education. Basically unless your cool and have a nice easy well paid job that you enjoy, getting older sucks.
I'm not sure how it happened but I did. Get locked in. Somehow. On Wednesday. I'd just turned twenty. As I said. The graveyard was to think. And to celebrate my youth. By holding my birthdate up against the tombstones. And going: Look how much younger I am than you! Except. It didn't work out like that. Blame the colours. Not the dominating glut of greys browns greens, but the suddenness of red berries glittered with frost and scattered beneath a tree, of neon purple flowerheads throwing lanterns of colour up a severed-in-half tombstone. Or blame the pigeons crackling invisibly in the trees, or the statues of angels whose feet were littered white with so many feathers. Or blame the inscriptions of deaths, or lives, and families, and loves, of nineteenth century women buried with their infants, of twentieth century men and their telling wartime dates, of seventeenth century parish priests and their seventeenth century parish priest sons. Blame names like Nellie McNair (poor) and Cecil Govenlock Forbes (not poor). Or ... ok, fine, blame the fact that I got locked in.
God.
You've spotted the symbolism and you think I'm making this up but I'm not.
The gates were just ... chained shut. I didn't see it happen. (I must have been at the back of the graveyard where the paths melt into the soil and the landscape develops tricks - hidden drops, pits of mushy leaves, wobbly steps - where the graves are centuries old and no one visits.) I sat down on a bench to think and the rainwater soaked my coat.
Twenty! Fucking twenty.
I was going to be a lawyer. Seventeen and studying at Edinburgh. But then I decided to become a rockstar instead. Or a poet. Bye bye Edinburgh! Bye bye friends!
Whoosh!
That was the sound of my friends whizzing past me. In terms of Education. Career. Property. Love.
What most terrifies me is that I will achieve no art. That all there will be to remember me by is a rotting tombstone at the back of a graveyard no one visits. There are other places to have your name engraved. Unfortunately I am locked out of all of them. For now!
Except the graveyard. Which I was still locked inside. So I climbed a wall the size of a bus and dropped down into the street.
If I'm agile enough still to climb a wall the size of a bus,
Leave that sentence open. It means I can do. Everything.
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You reached over with your hand and knocked my Jap over
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Also the cool thing about being older is that you know that in 10 years time all of todays fashionable teenagers are going to look at photographs of them poncing about in 80s gear and realise that they looked like terrible ****'s just like we did the first time round.
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Is all this Mallrats watching/bashing because I said it was my favorite movie or did no one read that and this is just some strange coincidence??
I don’t care how old I get, that infantile humor will still amuse me – even when you take out all the fart jokes there is still all the brilliant verbal repartee (granted, most of it about farting, sigh).
But this is a microcosm for how I have approached ageing: while I take on the trappings of mature adult life, I refuse to actually become a mature adult in spirit. One of the reasons I have such an easy time teaching (I was a teacher for a while and still do it occasionally) is that I haven’t lost touch with my sixteen-year-old self. I stay on top of popular music, tv and teeny-bopper movies, and still actually enjoy them. I think because I haven’t once taken a hiatus from youth culture, my mental ageing has been delayed in spots.
I sadly realize that I cannot completely prevent physical ageing, but I am fighting the mental stuff with all I’ve got. Not only to stay “young” societally, but to stay sharp: to this end, I find my proclivity to try and learn new things is key, as is the fact that I drastically change careers every few years .
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What else. I have written about my old woman's soul before. Watering the flowers. Putting on the kettle. Propping feet on the footstool. Doing the crossword in Yours. So maybe retirement isn't so bad after all.
At least when you're old you can hang around flower shops without looking like you're about to rob the place.
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I have a grey beard hair. I haven't got a beard. Stubble. Little white fucker. Unshaven Sunday hangovers and the beard is taunting me. Looks like I have a bit of cotton stuck to my chin. I have grey head hairs. I don't mind them. I look distinguished. I tell myself. But the beard hair. Little bastard.
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Neurotic Cat
My fortune cookie's empty... That's also the title of my autobiography.
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Last year I was a 25 year old, in a two year relationship, owned my own house and I didnt feel old at all! Relative financial security and endless possibilities.
This year I'm 26, single and have returned home to live with my parents for the first time in 5 years. I cant afford to rent anywhere where I live, and certainly cant afford to buy. God knows when I will know what its like to have my own space again.
My brother is 30 and his first child is now 9 months old.
Now, 26 seems not so very far from 30. It worries me that I have to start all over again and this could delay what I have wanted from the moment I first saw my nephew. Time does seem to go so quickly these days and I more aware of it than ever!
-------------------- You will always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats Posts: 150
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Jesus! Listen to yourselves! You whining fucking retards! People get married in their 80s. Change career in their 60s. Travel the world in their 70s. Some poor ***** are dead by their twenties. As long as you've got a pulse, you've got potential. Get off your fucking knees, wipe your eyes and DO SOMETHING!
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im quite happy being nearly thirty. the thirties cant be any worse than the twenties, can they? im gaining new skills, getting my priorities in order, making new friends, its all good. if i dont ever get to squeeze one out ill adopt a little guatemalan baby called jesus. i like my wrinkles, i dress like a 22 year old and im fairly sure my pussy's still got that vice-like thang going on. and im not a lesbian! whats to worry about? life is like a butterfly!
v.o: discodamage recommends lustral, also known as zoloft! one of the pfizer family of selective seratonin reuptake inhibitors!
playback; lust for life, iggy pop
vt: shot of ageing twentysomething in bradley's spanish bar, nursing a ginger ale, pulling up her kneesocks, smiling broadly.
v.o: with lustral, you too can regain your lust for life!
posted
Losing your hair at 21, and being told, at 22, that thanks to an injury born of excercising to try and extend your youthfulness, you instead now have a back as reliable as that of a 60 something, tend to armor you somewhat against worrying about any future effects of aging. That said, even at 27 I do sometimes think about the prospect of getting old an infirm, although part of that is down to seeing first hand how quickly your life can be snatched from you by age and a related debilitating illness, a year ago my grandad was a smiling, happy pensioner who liked nothing more than to have a glass of whisky and discuss the football, one year on he's an emaciated shell who sits hunched in a chair, so bowed his head is almost in his lap, alternating between sleeping and gazing blankly into the distance while dribbling down his chin. Thing about aging is it doesn't always creep up on you, sometimes it decides to ambush you and give you a damn good kicking, robbing you of your freedom and your dignity in one fell, irretrievable swoop. That's what really scares me, that and the prospect of going to the funeral of one of the nicest men I know, when the powers that be finally decide they've had enough of humiliating him, and using his inability to recognise or respond to even his wife of 60 odd years to hurt those around him.
Yeah getting old can suck balls, which is why BM has a point, instead of worrying about getting older, we should do all we can to enjoy the present as much as possible, after all you never know what's just around the corner..
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Tiredness has made me old today. My limbs ache, my stomach feels full of iron wool and my eyes sting. Every action is slow and my speech slurs when I don't concentrate. I am losing sentences halfway through and drifting into ummms. This morning I said 'thank you' when the man in the café asked for my order and blinked slowly. My back is curled and my face is slightly flushed. I imagine that when I am old, I will feel like this always.
Tonight it is my flatmate's 24th birthday. Next year I will be 24 too, although I still think I'm 22 and have to catch myself when people ask my age. I have always been the youngest, although I am the older sister. I see myself as young. Hell, I am young. Adult things keep on taking me by surprise. Example: yesterday I got my first bonus. A bonus! I never imagined. I feel responsible, and high-flying, and rewarded for my efforts in my career. In work, I feel like a child playing at adult games. I find it laughable that I look after various accounts, that I speak directly to CEOs and advise them on press strategy. That I can sit besuited in a corporate meeting and present clearly and concisely, and that people take me seriously. I know I am capable but it still seems unreal.
Of course my personal life still has all the unruly flounces that are stereotypically assigned to youth. I laugh all the time and forget about getting older, most days.
-------------------- the more brilliant her smile, the closer she always seemed to disaster Posts: 1057
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Incidentally, when I was young, the first thread I ever started on SeeMO was about this very subject. It garnered approximately three replies, all sarcastic. Those were the days, eh?
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quote:Originally posted by Black Mask: Jesus! Listen to yourselves! You whining fucking retards! People get married in their 80s. Change career in their 60s. Travel the world in their 70s. Some poor ***** are dead by their twenties. As long as you've got a pulse, you've got potential. Get off your fucking knees, wipe your eyes and DO SOMETHING!
quote:Originally posted by Black Mask: Jesus! Listen to yourselves! You whining fucking retards! People get married in their 80s. Change career in their 60s. Travel the world in their 70s. Some poor ***** are dead by their twenties. As long as you've got a pulse, you've got potential. Get off your fucking knees, wipe your eyes and DO SOMETHING!
but its so hard being middle class and white.
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Unfortunately, the title of this thread makes me think of Benway done out like George Michael, c.2001, listening to some smoky, soulful jazz in a dark hotel room somewhere.
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quote:Originally posted by discodamage: im quite happy being nearly thirty. the thirties cant be any worse than the twenties, can they? im gaining new skills, getting my priorities in order, making new friends, its all good. if i dont ever get to squeeze one out ill adopt a little guatemalan baby called jesus. i like my wrinkles, i dress like a 22 year old and im fairly sure my pussy's still got that vice-like thang going on. and im not a lesbian! whats to worry about? life is like a butterfly!
LOL. Note to self. Repeat three times before posting: "discodamage is not a lesbian and London is not a man."
I'm looking forward to 30. Okay so the hangovers get harder to bounce back from - but I don't have one of those every day of the week. Unlike certain hazy student weeks.... I'm looking forward to caring less and less what people think of me, a particulary 20s affliction I think.
Likewise I'm already celebrating the fact that these days people take me seriously without any effort on my part - unless they're a driving instructor or a member of my immediate family.
I like the fact that it's years since I blamed my parents for anything, apart from the odd dodgy gene (fair hair and dark eyebrows, thanks folks).
I'm even quite relieved that I've made quite a few mistakes and downright fuck-ups that are safely out of the way and hopefully not to be revisited. Oh apart from the hangovers....
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turbo
Gold..... What is it good for? You can't eat it, you can't smoke it, yet everybody wants it.
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I am feeling young today! I got my car fixed and tha man at the garage told me he thought I was 24 or 25. I'm 32! I almost kissed him.
-------------------- Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names. Posts: 1189
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Hahahah Im twenty ahahhahahahah you're all old hahahahahahahha I can still enjoy shit films without a hint of self conciousness...
except...
the self conciousness is creeping in...this weekend I will mostly read jaqueline wilson.
oh and physics, what sort of exercises? cus im lifting weights at the moment (not in a big style, just hand ones, although for mthey seem heavy...) and i occasionally get little back twinges...my family has a history of bad backs and very very occasionally i get a thing where i cant breath in cus its like ive got a stitch in my back. help me not destroy my back!
Look people:@ do you really want to be my age again? Look at me, I'm an idiot!
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