That just doesn’t seem possible. Not in a “I feel so oooooooooooooold” way, but in a “I don’t feel old AT ALL” way. I feel like I just got here. I feel like I’m still riding a bike with a banana seat and wearing awesome yet horse-frightening pants and a Star Wars shirt. OK, I *am* still wearing Star Wars shirts. I feel like I’m still about eight years old – and most of you will say that I act like I’m barely older than that a good portion of the time!
There are still people alive today who watched me learn to walk, and they don’t seem any older to me now than they did then (not that they seemed ancient then and even more creaky now, but that I see them as my heart sees them, not as my eyes do).
I feel like I’ve hardly even started. And yet I have the gray hairs to prove that shit’s not only been started, but gone through and conquered. My body tells me there’s no way I can stay out dancing until 2 AM and then wake up at 6:45 and be at work by 7:30 for a 12-hour day of on-your-feet retail… instead it wants a good 7-8 hour sleep (or, heaven, even nine hours!) and *then* I can work a solid 12-hour day of making and business ownering… and *still* get the animals and the husband fed by the end of the day.
I’ve done a lot that I’ve wanted to do – theater school (and leaving theater school, hahahaha!), some international travel (there’s never enough international travel), read good books, loved good people, made good art, and hopefully been kind and generous with my heart and time… but there’s no way I’ve done enough of that – surely I’ve just gotten started on having good times and doing good things, and not that I’ve been doing them that long according to a calendar. I mean, I’m just, like, ten years old, right? Somewhere between eight and twelve? And I don’t mean that in a “I’ve got all the time in the world, whenever, it’ll happen” way but in a “oh my god, get going, there’s so much fun to have, look at all this fun you’ve ALREADY had and you can have SO MUCH MORE!” way.
47. It’s the new 13.