There is an energy generated in our early 20’s that we lose over time. It’s call being free. Off to college, leaving the tangled web of home life behind and seeking wondrous possibilities. Working seemed less like drudgery than the means to buy a gym membership, shopping, hanging out with friends until 2 am eating all kinds of tasty if not so good for you foods. There was dancing and dating and something magical about continual motion and looking forward to some planned “something”.
Summer brought lakes and water skiing. Then winter and onto snowboarding and snowmobiling. TV was an afterthought and sleeping came so easy. I was totally careless with calories because they never piled up to put an ounce on me. Am I being memory selective or was this truly as amazing as this entry seems to tell.
Now I am approaching 30. Settling into a little more apathy than laziness. Work is 9 to 5, a truly acceptable and stable 5 day a week job, free weekends included. My gym membership card looks brand new, my hobbies are on post-it notes in my head waiting to come to fruition. A new, best one out there, sewing machine sits on my table, the yet untried projects haunting me as I walk by. My shiny new camera sits on the shelf, shamelessly spying on me like some traffic cam wondering when I will muster enough ambition to take more interesting photos than of my cat.
My best intentions to do the mundane but necessary household things blow away and settle like the dust on my window sills. I fall on the couch and watch TV that was once an afterthought, for more hours than I wish to admit. The “i” pads, touches, phones, tunes certainly distract me from seeking my wondrous possibilities. Did I really stay up until 2 am and jump out of bed the next morning excited for more “somethings” to do? Did I wear out the Energizer Bunny?
I can make lists and lists of the things I could replace like “less of” tv, over-sleep, electronics and “more of” going to the gym, exploring my inner photographer and sewing bee, and be less tolerant of dusty windowsills.
Let’s be real. It’s not going to happen. Comparing 20 to 30 is a lesson in futility. And moving continually will just make me dizzy and I’m back on the couch again. Maybe, just maybe, older means slower. I could read Photography magazine and marvel. My camera would approve, and that just might inspire me to take a picture of the stupid parrot across the street to add to my growing animal portfolio. I could watch a youtube sewing video on my iPad instead of playing aimlessly. I could stop pressuring myself and accept sometimes, nothing for the moment is ok. Or for a lot of moments instead of filling up my life with a lot of meaningless somethings.