Creeping Agerism
Last weekend, Lava, Archy, Xirex, Tennyth, and I went to a flea market. The place was huge, deeper than it was wide, and arranged in a labyrinth of shelves, each spilling over with old, tightly-packed knickknacks from antiquity. We marveled at the old clocks, we were crept out by the rows of dolls, none of which were smiling, and we laughed at novelty items that nobody could have possibly ever though cool in any era. We tried to figure out the purpose of a strange item labelled "steering handle" and joked about the little model of an atomic cannon with realistic tires. I was particularly amused by an old, faded bucket of lard that had, prominently written in cursive on the front, "Fresh!"
This was when something familiar caught my eyes. On a small wooden shelf were a few rows of dozens of video tapes that I'd watched a hundred times in the past, all with the exact same covers that I remembered. They were like old friends, just sitting there with the memories clinging to them like cobwebs. And then it hit me. Something from my childhood was being sold in an antique shop.
Man, do I feel old.
I am sitting in the eye doctor's waiting room as I write this and there are two 40-50 year old ladies on both sides of me. One of them just asked if I played Farmsville.
"Farmsville?" I asked. "Oh, you mean the Facebook thing? No, I barely know what it is. I don't use Facebook."
"But you're so young," one of them said, looking startled.
I certainly don't feel it as I listen to them talk about the technical aspects of Facebook management. I just got out-teched by two old ladies.
This was when something familiar caught my eyes. On a small wooden shelf were a few rows of dozens of video tapes that I'd watched a hundred times in the past, all with the exact same covers that I remembered. They were like old friends, just sitting there with the memories clinging to them like cobwebs. And then it hit me. Something from my childhood was being sold in an antique shop.
Man, do I feel old.
I am sitting in the eye doctor's waiting room as I write this and there are two 40-50 year old ladies on both sides of me. One of them just asked if I played Farmsville.
"Farmsville?" I asked. "Oh, you mean the Facebook thing? No, I barely know what it is. I don't use Facebook."
"But you're so young," one of them said, looking startled.
I certainly don't feel it as I listen to them talk about the technical aspects of Facebook management. I just got out-teched by two old ladies.