Now and Forever
Welp I may as well shut this thing down, because I’m fresh out of things to write. This here, this is my life now. 7 days work, 7 days Czech Republic, 7 days work, 7 days off. Rinse 7 times, repeat indefinitely.
This is how I grow old, and old I am growing. Where I used to wonder what country to visit next (if not Norway), I now have money on my mind. Where I would practice my back flip, I now have to worry about tooth decay and cancer of the colon (how does one muster the courage to see a doctor about that??).
I am an adult now, and I worry about adult things. I have an opinion about immigration issues, and I watch car commercials with interest. I am both startled and extremely bored with this new person I’m becoming.
And I’m getting fat. I can feel my new prize hanging over my belt as I sit here. You might not care about that, but my body has always been my tool and I have an intimate love-hate relationship with it. I never had to do a damn thing to keep it healthy but now that the longest distance I walk in a day is the width of our stage, things begin to change.
They say your metabolism changes once you reach 30, but I call bullshit. In our stagehand company we had guys from 18 to 70 years old, and give or take an exception or 2, they were all hench as fuck. It’s your lifestyle that does it, and once people like me reach 30, they have settled down, often with someone who does their cooking for them, and the word ‘jogging’ isn’t exactly on the first page of their list of priorities. Blaming your metabolism then is absurd.
So there: I am gaining weight because I eat like a diabetic pig and don’t do enough exercise. And hate the result in the mirror and it frustrates me that, like most people, I’ll have to put some effort into eating healthy. There was a time when I could run my sixpack right past the commandos in my regiment while they went “Oh zut c’est Le Flash” but those days are behind me and aren’t coming back, convinced as I might have been that they would last forever.
Since no one else in the frickin’ world seems to have caught on, I’ll go ahead and say it. Aging sucks and there are no ifs or buts about it. Yes, wisdom comes with age but if you make me choose between youthful energy and wisdom, you’ll hear me ask just how ignorant you can make me.
The thing that sucks most about it is how impressions, life-changing moments, become less frequent until they stop altogether. Sky-splitting events like your first kiss (or first anything, for that matter), carelessly spending time with a house pet, sneaking out of the house to attend a party. My best memories are about shooting bb guns with a friend (at a friend, to be more precise) and chopping corridors through the rain forest of nettles further down our dead-end street, not that one time I went to Ikea or had a day off. Not that life isn’t great as it is, but damnit, I am used to more.
No one told me it would end. That the adult life is as bland as it looks when you’re a kid. People don’t believe me when I say I’ve had enough impressions to fill several lifetimes but seriously, if this is what they’re used to, I get the feeling I have been understating my case so far.
So yeah, I’m doing good, thanks for asking. I’m just bored. I haven’t had the chance to indulge in anything worth wile in way too long. I hope that will change once my financial situation has stabilized, which is a pain-staking process taking place as we (well, I) speak. So this might be a passing phase, I just wish I could say the same about growing older.
Expect my writing to slow down. It has been, lately. With nothing to trigger some train of thought, they tend to stay at the station. Let’s just hope I don’t lose the capability, so that if the time ever comes where I can trade it all in for a quad bike to tour Scandinavia with (for starters), I will still have that urge to tell you about it. I miss doing so.
The marathon has started and I was late to the starting line. So if you’ll excuse me, I have some jogging to do.