Get Off My Lawn

Is there anything you feel too old to do anymore?

Gah. Everything. I feel too old to get out of bed most days. Getting old sucks. I’m not old yet by a long shot, but I am getting around to it sooner than I’d like.

When I lived in Boston, a thousand years ago, I had a corporate, soul-sucking job. To not suck my soul so much, I used to go out on the town several times a week. I’d work all day, come home and take a nap, and then go out until 2 or 3 in the morning. I’d return home to my bed and sleep for 3 or 4 hours, get up and do it all over again. I lived on ephedrine and coffee.

Even when I first moved to Los Angeles, I would go out during the week from time to time. Nowadays, it takes something really special to drag me out of the house during the week. It has to be something on the order of a friend in from out of town, a live band I’ve been dying to see or something of that nature. It would never occur to me these days to just go out on a Tuesday for the hell of it. My late night gallivanting was not even a decade ago, but it might as well have been a lifetime.

Even on Fridays, when I could theoretically sleep all day Saturday, I have a hard time finding the energy to leave my house. I say theoretically because I have a dog now. Said dog will wake me at 8am whether it’s a weekend or not. She has no concept of a weekend.

My social life has definitely taken a hit as my age gets bigger and rounder, but It’s not the only thing that has changed. My attitude has shifted as well. Somewhere along the way, my thinking on those under the age of, say, 21 changed. When I was under 21, I wanted to be 21 in the worst way. When I was 21, I was invincible and with each passing year, I became more so. I’m not sure how, why or when, but my perception shifted. I’m no longer invincible. I can no longer relate to the 21 and under crowd as I once did. I view them as hooligans with no sense of fashion or taste. They’re all a bunch of rapscallions who think the world owes them something.

Awwww, that’s cute.

Obviously, I’m speaking in very big brush strokes, but I overstate to illustrate a point. Time was, I’d see a young punk rock kid walking the street, duded out with a mohawk and a leather jacket, and think, “Awwww, that’s cute. Passing the torch. Keep the faith, brother!” and all that. Now, while I still think “Awwww, that’s cute,” I also silently think to myself, “Been there, done that. Can’t you miscreants find some new trend instead of emulating me and my oldness? You’re doing it wrong.” These kids on their skateboards hanging out in front of the 7-11 are no longer relatable as “I remember those days of just picking a spot to hang out on a Friday night because we were too young to do anything else.” They are now mostly thought of as in my way. I have no hatred for them nor fear of them, I guess I’m not that old yet, but I can’t empathize with them anymore. I’m suddenly too old to care about a new generation carrying on the traditions of my youth. I think of it as copyright infringement and lack of creativity more than anything else.

Am I too old? No, never. You’re never too old. Do I want to be young again? No fucking way. I have absolutely no desire to hang out in front of 7-11 on Friday night again. I can’t relate to the oldsters with their nice suburban houses, fancy cars, 401Ks and weeknight television, but I can’t relate to the youngsters with their terrible music and horrible fashion sense (see Justin Bieber). I’m in the middle. But no matter how old you are or I am, nor how old we feel, you still need to get the hell off my lawn.

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