Growing Old

I fear the day when everyone around me will be younger, hipper, more energetic and more tuned-in than me; when I won't understand their jokes or their language. See! I used a semicolon back there, which illustrates my burgeoning stodginess. I find comfort in the fact that no matter how old I am, there will always be someone older than me. And, of course, if I ever become the oldest person on the planet, I will be too oblivious to care anymore.

Poor Taste for TV Geeks

One sentence memoir

Finally rented The 40 Year Old Virgin, a relatively accurate chronicling of my life...except for the part about being a virgin.*

*No part of this sentence has been exaggerated or embellished...except for the part before the part about being a virgin.

Character Lacking

I am sitting on the train. A young man rises from his seat across the aisle. He looks around, then sits down again. At the next stop, he stands, watches and paces the aisle. When the train moves he sits and shakes his head, apparently a gesture of frustration. I allow myself a peek. He is young, early twenties, and wears his blonde hair cropped short. His scowl indicates a certain penchant for violent behavior. At the next stop, he stands and watches the people outside the train. He looks up and down the aisle. He is standing very close to the empty seat next to me, to which I have assigned my briefcase. I consider that he may be waiting for the right time to steal my belongings and run from the train, so I move my heavy briefcase onto my knees. Now he moves to the seat in front of me. It occurs to me that perhaps he is looking for someone who was supposed to meet him at one of the stations we’ve just passed, in which case my intimation of paranoia would be construed as an insult. So the following runs through my head: I could minimize the insult by pretending to call someone on my cell phone and saying that I’d intended to get off at the last stop, but that I’d decided to continue on. This way, he could surmise that I’d moved my briefcase only to collect my things in preparation of disembarkation. I am about to proceed with this deception when I think, “For cryin’ out loud. I’m an adult, with a family and a position of some responsibility. I should face this head on or ignore it altogether.” But then I realize how much fun it could be. So I have my phony conversation, adding lots of authentic utterances and miscues. I convince my phantom auditor that I will continue on a few more stops, which is, in fact, the truth. After I “hang up,” it is clear that the young hood was planning to rob me after all, for he turns around and faces me, and asks me whether or not I know the time. Although this is certainly the stalling tactic of a criminal (I can see it in his crack-addled eyes), I give him an approximate time, and tighten the grip on my belongings all the more.