it's over. move to somnia.

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Than You've Ever Been

I was out to lunch with some coworkers today; as we're heading back to the office, the new guy (aka the Geo-Temp, aka the Red-Headed Stepchild*) hits me up for a little conversation, and I hear a sentiment that's become familiar, but rarely so bluntly quotable:

"You're from Modesto? I have a friend from Modesto. Maybe you know him...oh, except he's a few years younger than you. He's 24."

I admitted the truth, and threw in (proudly?) that I am the youngest in the office. He didn't seem too surprised, but you never know.

Now, being 24 is something I'm still getting used to, and being mistaken for much older than I am is something I should definitely already be used to ("It's the beard," another coworker offered helpfully), but I wonder if I'll ever catch up to my perceived age and look as I should...or will this continue until I look Old before my time? I pretend to not be concerned about my appearance, but...ugh.

I've always had an odd fascination with memoirs and nostalgia; the scenes in TV and movies where the Old Person pulls out pictures of him- or herself as a sexy and vivacious twentysomthing as the grandkids (or whatever surrogates for youth are at hand) gape at the Marked Difference between Then and Now always get to me. It really makes me want to go out and get as many pictures of now-me taken as possible, to capture my youth in preparation for the Era of Fond Memories.

In a less superficial vein, similar yearnings stir me toward quitting my job and doing something more adventurous, more outdoor/hardier/youth-rewarding. I know that I'll be able to work in an office at any point in my life and that there are some opportunities that fade with time. I'm just so used to earning and spending at my current level that it's hard to own up to the possibility that what I end up doing instead may pay less. I don't know if I have the discipline to adjust my budget.** My longview dictates that I never want to go into credit debt. That's a heady consideration. There are also insurance and other seemingly-piddling issues that I can't seem to get around. Caution squashes all. What gives? Am I too old inside?

Where are my prunes?


*I honestly love that phrase and want to shower the coiner with much unabashed affection. Call me, you bastard!

**Hell, I can't even set aside the time to track whether I'm following anything that could be considered a budget.
peachy as always, Mike at 6:19 PM