I can do math. I’m a grownup. This was not actually the case until about a week ago, when I crossed the line.

I turned thirty.

Overall, I’m pretty into it. As the perennial youngest (and shortest) in pretty much every aspect of my life, it’s very new for me to be old. In my mind, when you finally get old, people stop playing that trick in which they palm your skull and straighten their arm out all the way so that no matter how hard you swat and squeal, there’s no reaching them. And that, my friends, is something to look forward to.

Even as I savor the death-rattle of my twenties, I can’t help but say goodbye to a few of the things that I am now to old to be, either by definition or by the rules dictated by self-respect.

1. Child prodigy

In the fourth grade, I was hard at work on my first screenplay. I spent most of my time not writing, but fantasizing about how cool it would be to have written a hit television show at the tender age of nine. I looked forward to my appearance on David Letterman, for which I had canned a couple of zingers about the gap in his teeth.

After 30, you can still do something impressive, but you’ll never again be impressively young.

2. The drunkest person at the party

Adam has an uncle who is one of the best people I know to share a beer with. He’s a Vietman vet and one of his only buddies from those days who can still drink. According to him, the guys who had to quit are “totally fucking boring” now because they didn’t know anything about moderation. The key, he says, to being able to get drunk for the rest of your life is to not drink so damn much.

3. Cheerleader

I actually never wanted to be a cheerleader, not even for a minute. But it’s important, in any case, not to be one after 30.

4. A Nihilst

I was at a wedding in New York a couple of weeks ago, and I got in a long and odd conversation with an old aquaintence. Because we are older than we used to be, we sat at the bar talking about whether or not we wanted to have kids (back in the day, it was bands, bands, bands) and he said no way because he’s was a nihilist and he couldn’t in good conscience bring a human into this world.

I felt like I was talking to a teenager.

5. Five

…

And, well. That’s about all I can think of. Far scarier than the list of thinks I shouldn’t be is the list of things I should. But who wants to get into that load of crap?

Posted by jackson on 30 Sep 2006
Filed Under: Miscellaneous | No Comments »

Yesterday I got a bad haircut. It is nothing particularly special or exciting to anyone but me. That’s just the lonely pain of hair gone wrong. I am the only one that has to walk around for the next month or so looking like a soccer mom with a bad haircut. Or, to take a page from my husband’s book of rich imagery, like a character from Dead Poet’s Society.

Hm. That’s nice, isn’t it? Let’s take a look, shall we?

Oh, Neil. When you shot yourself I cried so hard the stranger sitting next to me at Lion’s Head Cinema told me to get ahold of myself. You represented the dreams I was terrified I’d have to give up one day. You did not represent, however, the ‘do of my dreams.

Knox Overstreet! Such a hopeless romantic…You showed me that boys obsessed about girls as much as the other way around, and that was comforting, even if your determination was a little bit creepy. Later on, you took Christina Applegate to see the grunion run in Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead, further proving your dedication to creepy romance. Also, nice bangs!

Hey, big fink! You’ve got a fucking flat top.

Aw, Pitts. I always remember how Robin Williams called your name “unfortunate”, even though it is just one letter away from that of a pretty good looking actor-guy who ended up scoring one of the hottest women who ever lived. So take that, el capitano!

Todd. Toddy Todd Todd. You were really cute back then — your shy demeanor paving the way for some excellent desk-set tossing and poetry reading scenes. Looking at your picture here, I can almost forget who you became. I always thought Neil’s death would have hit you the hardest, you know? What I never could have predicted was that one day, I would be thirty years old and have your haircut. Who’s crying now?

Posted by jackson on 09 Sep 2006
Filed Under: Miscellaneous, Movies | 2 Comments »