An Unfortunate Symptom of Maturity

There are days when I wish I was "more mature," and had a better understanding of "it all," and there are days when I don't.

Today is the latter.

Today is one of those days when I realize that gaining perspective and wisdom is like leaving Plato's cave - once you've grasped certain truths, it's impossible to go back to the naivety you so enjoyed before. (I've also decided that seeing naivety for what it is is a big indication that you no longer possess it.)

You age with or without gaining wisdom, so I still think "wise" is the way to go, but I think it would be easier to go through life learning nothing, so you can retain the high hopes, bold courage, and open-mindedness of childhood.

Not to mention, the more you figure shit out, the more annoyed you get by everyone who hasn't.

I think about all the drunk evenings riding back on Cal train from San Francisco, not caring who saw me or if I even had a seat. Or walking down the street on a summer's day San Luis Obispo, requiring nothing but a friend and a hidden pipe to have the best day ever. Or befriending everyone I met, accepting the motives of everyone as pure.

Sometimes I even miss the times that made for the worst experiences but the best stories. Or the times when I was surprised by the way a situation turned out, for better or worse. With age, things become less volatile, and better overall, but as they say, the sweet isn't as sweet without the sour.

I find myself living now-a-days with the stifling lens of experience. I know what I like, I know what annoys me, and I generally know what warning signs to look for in any given situation, what triggers drama, what missteps could turn around and bite me, etc. With this clear sense of how situations might pan out, I have a hard time understanding or excusing people for their ignorance about "obvious" things. And I have a hard time just letting things ride, because I can see a mistake or a misstep as it's beginning to happen.

This is making planning for Europe a little bit harder than anticipated, because I know what can go wrong so I'm going a little bit crazy ensuring that it doesn't, wanting to plan things down to the last, carefully organized detail. Wanting to prove that I can "do this trip right" and without making the sorts of crazy mistakes that are probably part of most nomadic journeys across multiple countries.

It leads me to wonder, is this why so many people become "set in their ways?" Because they've done things differently or let things go in the past to their detriment? Stayed up too late and suffered at work, neglected to be on time and missed their ride, failed to pay attention and ended up in the wrong part of town, trusted the wrong person and gotten their shit stolen? Can we blame them for knowing what works, and sticking to the script? Should we look at this as stagnant rigidity, or as an awareness of outcomes?

And am I playing devil's advocate right now for everything that's wrong in the world, or have I stumbled upon an inconvenient and unsettling truth?

If You're Gonna Do It, Do It Right

I got in an argument yesterday with my soon to be mother-in-law about the presence of old people at my wedding. It's not an issue on my side, I just have 2 grandmas to invite - other than that, my "family" consists of less than 10 people. On the other hand, DBo's Dad has 10 aunts + their husbands who are all over the age of 80, and apparently we "need" to include them and their old friends and family at the wedding. Oh - and apparently we shouldn't worry too much about having cool food because there will be a million old people there who won't appreciate it anyway. And we want to make sure our music choices appeal to the generations, cause they're all gonna be there. At that point, I had to resist the urge to puke in my mouth.

Here's something you should know about me. I am terrified of old people. Except for ones I know well, like Grandma P, my own grandma, and . . . well . . . that's about it.

Absolutely terrifying.

Old people smell funny, they don't know how to have fun, they still bitch about Kennedy, Ford, and Carter, they're often racist, they don't get my humor, they're shocked by anything current, they don't dance, you can't tell them anything, and, in a lot of ways, they just remind me of the inevitability of death. I don't want to be thinking about hip replacements, and caretakers, and lack of taste-buds, and widow-hood at my wedding. I want lights and beauty and friends and laughing and dancing and fun. Otherwise, what's the point?

I bitched about all of this to DBo, and he was totally awesome in reminding me that we have only been engaged for 3 weeks now, that we shouldn't be thinking about anything other than finding a location we like, and don't I have a Europe trip I should be planning instead of worrying about all this shit?

Very true, I just always envisioned my wedding being the best kick-ass party of the year, and I don't want to be reined into having this traditional, all-family-must-be-present event. I want to have the sort of wedding with the sort of guests who appreciate a wine pairing, know awesome music when they hear it, can taste awesome food when it's in front of them, and would love to get an invitation like this.

The Elephant in the Room

2 weeks ago, I got engaged.

The Ring.

It was totally unexpected – as in, I thought he was joking when he pulled the ring out of his pocket - and I’ve been on somewhat of an emotional roller-coaster since. I am completely honored (and surprised) that DBo wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and I know that I’m casting my lot with a really great guy. And I love him.


Some days, I feel completely giddy and stare adoringly at my ring, but then some days I feel unsure, and confused. I question the timing, I question his motives. Some days I look at California Brides, and tear up while listening to our favorite band. Some days I can barely get the word “engaged” out of my mouth. It’s hard to admit, but I don’t know how I feel about being “a married woman.” I love DBo, and I want to be with him forever, but joining the demographic that keeps RomComs profitable is a bitter pill to swallow.


I fear that the window of “you can live your life however you want, and be who you want to be” is closing. My fate is being written. No longer will I be an adventurous, turbulent, never-satisfied seeker. I will be settled - or so I will be viewed. I worry about being seen as just a half. I am scared of losing my choices. I worry about getting old. I fear losing the thrill of loneliness. Of self-reliance. I’m concerned that this time in my life will never live up to the hype.


My biggest fear is of becoming one of “those girls.” The girls who I mock. The girls who just want to have babies and families and who don’t have internal dialogues about pursuing the opportunities of life. When you get married, you have forfeited the right to decide one day that you want to be someone completely different. When you’re married, above all, your loyalty is to each other, and while that’s an amazing thing, what if suddenly find yourself staying at that job, because it’s close to your house and his work? Suddenly you find yourself maintaining the same tired group of friends, because it’s couples you both know? Suddenly wanting babies because that's what people do?


Today I am looking at my ring, and I love it, and I am so happy to be marrying someone as loving and honest and supportive and smart as DBo. Today's a good day. Maybe I just still need some time to wrap my head around the rest.

On Aging, Maturity, and the Complexity of DVDs

So it's 6am, and I am trying to understand the complex relationship between self-perception, reality, and time.

Although my brain has been convinced that it's 33 since I was 10 years old, and the voice in my head hasn't changed much since puberty, I can consistently look back and see that my actions belied the maturity I thought I possessed. It leads me to speculate - if I was wrong about myself at 10, wrong about myself at 15, wrong about myself at 20, what reassurances can my 25 year old self have that I am not making an ass of myself on a daily basis? That my thoughts are actually reasonable and sound?

And that is what maturity is, I imagine. That day when the thoughts in your head mesh with reality as you imagine them to do. You hit the magical age when everything falls into place.

That thought is reassuring, but only until I consider the flip side - senility. In my opinion, most people over 70 (maybe in today's world 80) are completely out of touch with reality, rigid to the point of crazy, and win the dubious "Most likely to bitch about the Jewish/black/gay family down the street" award. They are also the most likely group of people to complain the world is going to hell, vote against money for schools, and take issue with the DVD player, in spite of the fact that DVDs have been around for over a decade, and are hardly considered "new" technology or difficult to use.

Is there a window of time when you have it all figured out? When you are a reasonable, and highly functioning member of society? When you are finally considered "wise?" Someone who can confidently go forth, knowing they aren't leaving a massive trail of fucked-up behind them? Is that window smaller than we all think?




On that note, this is my favorite picture of Grandma P. - after our other elderly neighbor backed her car into the front yard. Is this the best we can hope for after a long and well lived life?