Turning 45

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Turning 45

Sounds like a mix of old songs that we used to play in our time using a disc. But it’s not a laser disc, rather it’s a vinyl disc and we played in on the turntable where a needle “reads” the music as the song is playing.

If you would describe that to today’s generation, they might give you a blank face because they won’t understand what you’re talking about; they might display an expression of a dropped-jaw of disbelief that there was such a device that existed; or they might show you a wide-eye face and see you as an untamed caveman from the stone age.

In other words, it may sound Jurassic to them.

That is how I feel right now – old... Jurassic... an outdated model. Sure, I don’t need a cane to walk nor do I need an adult diaper because I am still very much in control. But that doesn’t really classify me as a youth, does it.

I’m 45, and that is that!

If adolescence is that confusing stage wherein you are neither a child nor an adult, being 45 is that awkward age wherein you are either old or too old.

Maybe growing old could be easier if you know you have something to prove for all those years of existence, and you know you can leave something that will assure your child a better future. Honestly, the opposite is true.

They say 40 is the new 30, making 30 the new 20, and so on and so forth. This, I guess is just a lame excuse for people to act like a jerk in spite of their age.

They also say age is only in the mind. So I guess if I’m mindless I will be eternally youthful.

You can throw all the clichés that you can think of at me, but it won’t change the fact that I am 45.

And that is that!