A mere 5 years ago I had short straight white blonde hair, and about the only thing I can say is the same in these 2 pics is that my eyes are still green.
So I am due a new Licence. This old fella expires in about a week.
I am pretty sure that the purple dye I used to celebrate Stevie's return will still be hanging about by then so the new photo should be a bit of a treat for any copper pulling me up for a traffic misdemeanour, but if I am gonna flash it about in some less flamboyant place, anywhere I might be expected to cover my hair for example, then I guess it might get a less than rapturous reception. Still, it's not like I did this on purpose. It's just a bit of serendipitous timing.
Not a lot has changed in the passed 5 years. It might well be true that the longer you live the quicker the time goes and the less stuff happens. Or maybe that's just me.
Yeh I am more wrinkled and far less tolerant of dickheads and shit service so don't believe that bullshit that says people become more mellow with age. I reckon that I could well be quicker to thoroughly pissed off now than I used to be, but that might be cos I have less going on so more time to ponder the shit.
I have managed to keep up with some of the latest tech and so yeh, I can still work the tellie and the optus box and have taught myself how to record this old blog, even though there is a great deal more to learn, but I am not sure I either want to learn it or need to learn it. And I am a little embarrassed to admit that I am curious about the Pokemon Go game and if I had unlimited data on my phone I might be tempted to get out there and go hunting.
I have another new knee and a bit less of a boob and mutants in my blood, so I guess that's quite a lot of change, but I sat across the table sharing a cuppa with a couple of women last week and we all had tales of woe so that might just be a sign of the times. So far my fifties have not been a health triumph but at least I haven't been on the mind slide.
Oh I'll admit that sometimes I have a delayed plucking of the correct or wanted word from the brain ether, but that might be what CMLers call the chemo brain, or it could be just that I don't have to be too quick witted anymore cos I am not doing daily battle with rambunctious teens and areshole school personnel. If I wait long enough the right word will pop up and I can grab it, even if that means that the grabbing happens some hours or days later, so not always a timely collection.
I am more sanguine about getting older so the fight to be a young, slim, wrinkle free, mistaken for my daughter gal, has fizzled out like an old sparkler. I just avoid mirrors and am happy when I am vertical and vocal.
Sometimes it feels like I have sunk very quickly into the mire of old age cos I do wonder where the time has gone. I think if there is any regret it is that I just don't know where middle age went. I thought that that should be now, when there are big adventures and endless wonderings and wanderings.
Too often I get to day's end and think I have just slid one day closer to dead.
So here's what I reckon. Staying young has fuck all to do with how you look, it has only to do with how you feel and maybe a little of who you feel or is feeling you.
Never mind hunting for Pokemons, I reckon we all just have to keep searching out the joy and be happily surprised when it jumps out of unexpected places.