I hate growing old.
This is sort of a comment response to sozepiggytails and mdsteele47. sozepiggytails said: This is what NetHack is for, you know. Sleep is for the weak and stuff.
and mdsteele47 said: The more I seem to tell my body that lately, the more often it finds passive-aggressive ways to remind me that I'm not 20-anything anymore...
I hate growing old, not up. That hasn't, thankfully, I hope, happened yet. When you're old, you have to worry about house and yard upkeep. Today, that has rendered my arms well nigh useless, as I've been swinging an axe for a decent chunk of the afternoon. I...can...barely...reach...my...keyboard. When you're old, those muscles don't heal as quickly.
When you're old, you have to go through all sorts of scheduling contortions just to spend an evening with your friends.
When you're old, you have to start worrying about your weight. The good side of having completely blown out my arms is that the exercise that got me there enabled me to down a large milkshake and a few bowls of ice cream across the day with likely no ill effects.
When you're old, you go to bed early so you can go to your day job and actually do the thing you went to school for, maybe. At least, I do. And when you get your paycheck, the question isn't what new, fun toy you are going to get, but how you distribute the money between new, fun toys for your kids, and their college education, and maybe retirement.
When you're old, you don't get to go on motorcycle rides like vfrride, because you might get pasted onto the pavement and leave your wife, and her measly liberal arts degree to support the kid. (Yes, that was a troll.)
That said, I chose my fate, and for the most part I'm good with it. I got into a discussion with my neighbor today. He's a railroad engineer / conductor for CSX nee Conrail nee Penn Central out of Selkirk Yard. In the fall of 1995, when I was finishing up my undergrad at RPI, both Canadian Pacific and Conrail were hiring out of Albany. I was this close to going and working for the railroad, when I got an offer out of the blue to go to grad school at RPI.
Railroad work means long, erratic hours away from home. Railroad work, like a lot of software and engineering (like civil, mechanical, electrical, not rr) work that I am familiar with, owns you until you progress far enough in the organization to start calling some of your own shots, which can take years. In that respect, they're both good for 20-somethings who don't mind burning the midnight oil, and a little fast living. It's not for people with spouses or kids.
I have to admit, that I have, to a significant degree, sold, or at least mortgaged, a significant piece of my soul for stability, a nice house in a convenient, small city, a warm bed, and a cute kid or 2 or 3. I also have to admit that I am feeling somewhat downtrodden by the loss of independence that has meant.
At the same time, if I had gone and worked for the railroad, or gone and tried my hand at starting a software, or more likely in my case, a PC repair firm, or any number of things that would have delayed or precluded the family life I now possess, I suspect I would be sitting here, depressed, and bitching about the emptiness in my life. My life is complicated, but it is not empty, by any stretch of the imagination.
I guess you can't have it both ways.
...Don't go there. Just don't. You all have filthy, dirty minds.
I guess I like that.
and mdsteele47 said: The more I seem to tell my body that lately, the more often it finds passive-aggressive ways to remind me that I'm not 20-anything anymore...
I hate growing old, not up. That hasn't, thankfully, I hope, happened yet. When you're old, you have to worry about house and yard upkeep. Today, that has rendered my arms well nigh useless, as I've been swinging an axe for a decent chunk of the afternoon. I...can...barely...reach...my...keyboard. When you're old, those muscles don't heal as quickly.
When you're old, you have to go through all sorts of scheduling contortions just to spend an evening with your friends.
When you're old, you have to start worrying about your weight. The good side of having completely blown out my arms is that the exercise that got me there enabled me to down a large milkshake and a few bowls of ice cream across the day with likely no ill effects.
When you're old, you go to bed early so you can go to your day job and actually do the thing you went to school for, maybe. At least, I do. And when you get your paycheck, the question isn't what new, fun toy you are going to get, but how you distribute the money between new, fun toys for your kids, and their college education, and maybe retirement.
When you're old, you don't get to go on motorcycle rides like vfrride, because you might get pasted onto the pavement and leave your wife, and her measly liberal arts degree to support the kid. (Yes, that was a troll.)
That said, I chose my fate, and for the most part I'm good with it. I got into a discussion with my neighbor today. He's a railroad engineer / conductor for CSX nee Conrail nee Penn Central out of Selkirk Yard. In the fall of 1995, when I was finishing up my undergrad at RPI, both Canadian Pacific and Conrail were hiring out of Albany. I was this close to going and working for the railroad, when I got an offer out of the blue to go to grad school at RPI.
Railroad work means long, erratic hours away from home. Railroad work, like a lot of software and engineering (like civil, mechanical, electrical, not rr) work that I am familiar with, owns you until you progress far enough in the organization to start calling some of your own shots, which can take years. In that respect, they're both good for 20-somethings who don't mind burning the midnight oil, and a little fast living. It's not for people with spouses or kids.
I have to admit, that I have, to a significant degree, sold, or at least mortgaged, a significant piece of my soul for stability, a nice house in a convenient, small city, a warm bed, and a cute kid or 2 or 3. I also have to admit that I am feeling somewhat downtrodden by the loss of independence that has meant.
At the same time, if I had gone and worked for the railroad, or gone and tried my hand at starting a software, or more likely in my case, a PC repair firm, or any number of things that would have delayed or precluded the family life I now possess, I suspect I would be sitting here, depressed, and bitching about the emptiness in my life. My life is complicated, but it is not empty, by any stretch of the imagination.
I guess you can't have it both ways.
...Don't go there. Just don't. You all have filthy, dirty minds.
I guess I like that.