On Middle-aging.

I recently read somewhere that you know you're middle-aged when Vienna starts appealing to you as a hot vacation spot. I'd love to go to Vienna! Other signs of middle-aging:

1. I choose sleeping over partying anytime.
2. I used to be way younger than all the musicians I played with. Now it's vice versa.
3. I often start a phrase with: 'These kids nowadays...'
4. I have a VHS-recording of an old children's TV show. My dad asks me: 'How old is this show, anyway?' 'Oh, fairly recent', I reply. He shakes his head. 'No, no. Look at that little girl having her birthday. See the date? She's born the same year as the current Miss France.'
5. Having VHS cassettes to begin with. I've had a pre-schooler ask me: 'What is that thing?'
6. Enjoying talking about recipes, gardening and politics; no longer that much about bands, parties and booze.
7. A friend had overheard two teenage girls commenting over a man, saying: 'A grandpa, about 40 years old'. How is that supposed to make me feel, not being that far from the Big Four-Oh myself?

Actually, I feel pretty good. Even though I live in the weight-loss promised land, France. (By the way, about 'French women don't get fat'? That's a big fat lie. Parisian women don't get fat.) You know what they say about the thirties. 'You raise your family, you make a little money, you buy your first house.' (Personally, I agree about that family-raising part, having no experience on the two other points.)For me, it's basically about accepting myself the way I am. OK, some detours in this life have been less than pleasant, but I'm glad I walked those paths anyhow. These wrinkles tell their tale, and I'm kind of proud of them, in a weird way. With these years giving me extra firepower, I'm no longer the wimp that I once was. You insult me? I'll fire right back. Those kids down the street bug my child? I'll give them the authority hell they deserve. So I can no longer call myself a 'promising young singer-songwriter'? That's OK. I'm OK with 'promising middle-aged singer-songwriter.'


These kids, nowadays. It's not even about not getting old anymore - it's about attempting to no longer die. I read in a Finnish newspaper that in 20 years, science will have come up with the answers to postpone old age almost indefinitely. You could live, like, seven hundred years. Tell you what. That's going to be some long, long middle-age years. Better start liking it now. I know I do.


You out there, you who want to live 700 years - how would you spend your life? Give me some hints. Who knows, one day I might need them.


PS. The spell checker on Blogger didn't recognize the word 'fat'. What does that say about the age we live in...?