2006
2006-01-02 10:16 a.m.
I suppose I should start to feel grown sometime soon, now that there�s the faint smell of thirty in the air. Three years isn�t that long. Then again, 3 minutes can be a lifetime.I have the debts of a grown man. The occupation of a grown man. The miracle-grow facial hair of a grown man. Most likely the liver and lungs of an old man. Shit, I get waved in at the clubs without even knowing the shmucks at the door. I used to joke that when you�re too old to get carded, you�re too old to stand at a velvet rope, and well� I still feel as such.
Shit I even had to convince the cutie form next door that I�m a �young� 27 the other day. A far better response would be, �yep... I�m too old for you.� But that wasn�t the question. Well, not directly � and apparently, nor was it my answer.
And yet I don�t necessarily �feel� it. I mean, sure, I gave up on �being cool� a long time ago, but that was when I should have still been trying. I gave up the smoke long ago to retain memory (although the occasions still arise). I actually have to watch what I eat.
Even the shit I look for in people has changed. There once was a time when all a woman needed was motivation and a cute face and she�d have my undivided attention. Now motivation is an afterthought. It�s become a matter of what are you DOING, rather what are you PLANNING. What do you believe, not hope, believe and stand for� now that you�ve a scarred imprint of �LIFE� on your right cheek from the four-finger-ring on the knuckles of that bastard who made sure you remember who set you straight every time you recognize the bum in the mirror?
I speak to my parents like an adult � far from new. I speak to adults like an adult � getting old. I have no idea what teenagers give a fuck about. Then again, I had no idea a decade ago, either.
But yes, it�s confirmed. We never grow up. I knew it when I was young and working beside old men. Old and gray, with hope long lost. Always reminiscent. Dealing with the same issues dealt with at a young age, just with older children. It�s why I ask people if they want to �come out and play� when inviting them out for an evening. And yes, as prophesized in fight club and tons of books I�ve skimmed with barely a moment to read� we remain children through life.
So what to do with a brand new year. Just another day, of course. But it�s nearly impossible not to feel a sense of beginnings and renewals around this time. The holidays have us worn, fattened, hungover and broke.
I�ve never actually had a new year�s resolution as the idea has remained absurd to me. But this is the time I take a look back (a little more than the 3-times-daily glance) to make sure I�m headed in the right direction. Look at last year and make sure it led me properly into a solid �this year.�
2005 was a funny and transitional year. The list of transitions is endless, including love lost, gained and feigned. Actually, no. Not feigned. That�s unfair and especially untrue. Rather� unfortunately, short-lived.
But in the end things are good, as always. For at least a decade now, looking back has always provided a great deal of hope. I�ve come a long way from sleeping on couches and in cars and mingling with the curb sides, jail cells and the minions of park benches, though I still visit on occasion. My discourse still emanates the fragrance of a dumpster, but the underlying thought is beginning to grant a stench of experience.
And so what now� Well, my goals are far from new. I want to travel - within these borders and far from. I want to create � within the confines of acceptability and far from. I no longer want to entertain. I�ve been entertaining for years. I want to be entertained. I finally feel the need to pay attention to the paintings and writings, the sculptures and music. Not the shit fed to me through bias, but the locally obscure. I want to learn more about what I like and why. I want to be closer to the family I�ve always felt so far from.
My new year�s was tame, but not necessarily by choice. Don�t mistake. I was delighted to spend it with my brother, though admittedly jealous of the stories the next day in cities far from here. I may be humble again, but I�m far from being humbled.