Rather than accomplishing much of anything on either of the two stories that I have lingering between beginning and end (Scenes to Nowhere One and Two) - I spent much of today working on the beginning of yet another potential story for my Motherhood collection. I think rather than suffering from Writer's Block, I'm afflicted with Writer's ADD and I completely lack the ability to focus (and finish) anything.
I bought beer at the grocery store tonight (not much of a drinker, but I do bake a mean beer bread - and by "bake" I mean, I pour a can of beer into Beer Bread Mix), this is how the conversation went:
Girl: Can I see your ID? (I hand it to her, she checks it, looks at me, checks it again, types my birthday into the computer and proceeds to continue scanning the rest of my items)
Items are scanned, she pauses and looks at me curiously before telling me my total. There is a line forming behind me.
She finally speaks again: You look really young for your age.
Me: Huh? Oh...Um...(smile, a little confused)
Girl: I mean, I just didn't think you were that old. You really don't look like you're that old.
Me: Oh, well, you know. Uh. Thanks.
I left the store not sure how to digest the comment. I'm only twenty-seven. Should I be pleased that a 16 year old doesn't think I look "that" old, or should I be offended that a 16 year old thinks I look young, but am indeed "old."
Or should I not really care, but write about it to the blogosphere at large anyway, simply because it's killing time and keeping me from creating yet another world to add to my stack of spinning plates.
Yes, that's the one.
I'm off to jog now - and hopefully find some sort of conclusion for at least one of the now three stories I've got in progress.
I bought beer at the grocery store tonight (not much of a drinker, but I do bake a mean beer bread - and by "bake" I mean, I pour a can of beer into Beer Bread Mix), this is how the conversation went:
Girl: Can I see your ID? (I hand it to her, she checks it, looks at me, checks it again, types my birthday into the computer and proceeds to continue scanning the rest of my items)
Items are scanned, she pauses and looks at me curiously before telling me my total. There is a line forming behind me.
She finally speaks again: You look really young for your age.
Me: Huh? Oh...Um...(smile, a little confused)
Girl: I mean, I just didn't think you were that old. You really don't look like you're that old.
Me: Oh, well, you know. Uh. Thanks.
I left the store not sure how to digest the comment. I'm only twenty-seven. Should I be pleased that a 16 year old doesn't think I look "that" old, or should I be offended that a 16 year old thinks I look young, but am indeed "old."
Or should I not really care, but write about it to the blogosphere at large anyway, simply because it's killing time and keeping me from creating yet another world to add to my stack of spinning plates.
Yes, that's the one.
I'm off to jog now - and hopefully find some sort of conclusion for at least one of the now three stories I've got in progress.
Labels: Writing Life
5 Comments:
You looked, to her, her age. Anything over 25 seems ancient to her.
It's ok. Anyone under 25 looks impossibly young to me, and I'm only 44.
Wanna hear something equally disturbing? Often at work I get comments from patients either asking if I am a high-school volunteer or something or actually just out of high school? And I'm nearly 29. Talk about weirdness.
I don't mind anymore. Especially since it means maybe in 10 more years I'll still look under 30 (here's hoping at least).
Take it as a compliment. As a 16 year old, anything over 18 seems OLD. And you are beautiful.
You know, my mom got hte same thing when she was starting out in nursing - patients would demand that she leave and get a "real" nurse to come in and do their procedures - no one believed she was old enough. She still looks good too - so maybe I'll just take after her. There are worse things in life, for sure, than being mistaken as youthful.
As has been said, teenagers have a very skewed idea of what old is.
My two singing buddies are 24 and I feel the generation gap big time, mostly because they draw attention to it seemingly often. After I expressed affection for the song Dancing Queen, one of my 20-something buds said to me, "Only people in their 30s like ABBA."
I don't mind, in fact I have to laugh, only because I know they'll be where I am in the blink of an eye. And the secret is, it feels so much better here, at 34. For me anyway. I feel wiser, more secure, more open.
Plus, I think the younger, hip set sees me and registers "suburban SAHM geek" but little do they know I was quite the wild thing in my 20s. That part of me still exists, but I'm just doing something else right now, something pretty important and infinitely cool.
I have always made it a point not to make age references toward younger or older people, because I have hung out mostly with people 5-15 years older than I am most of my life. In my eyes, age=wisdom, and it's particularly annoying to have someone not take you seriously because you are younger than they are. (Esp when you're in your 30s...)
There's my soliloquy on age; feel free to call on me for procrastination fodder anytime. :)
Thanks Teri! You can be a guest blogger here anytime.
(Oh, and you can tell your singing buddies that my husband is a big ABBA fan (though, he might not like me divulging that...Hmmm) - and he's only 25.)
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