The times, they are a changin'
So, I've been in a strange mood these last few weeks. I seem to be stuck in some sort of slightly morose, nostalgic, anxious about the future, amorphous funk. I'm not entirely sure how to describe it, because I'm not entirely sure what it is.
I think the main point is that my wife and I are expecting our first child in just three months. Surprisingly, I'm not too anxious about the actual childcare part. It'll be hard and it'll be trying, I'm sure. Yet, I'm pretty sure both my wife and I will be as prepared as we can be for the actual child rearing. We've both worked with and had a lot of training in dealing with youth of all ages. True, it'll be different with our own, but still that's not bothering me so much.
As I sit and write. I think my main worry is being able to provide for my child. A struggling writer's career is, well, full of struggle. It's tough with just the two of us let alone adding another being completely dependent on us.
Another main worry is that fact that I'm doubting myself as a writer. See, the Insecure Megalomaniac post.
Regardless, I'm in this slight miasma. Tonight while driving home from the store, with ice cream and trash bags in tow (having a pregnant wife in grad school makes for interesting store visits), I starting thinking about signs that I'm getting older. I say older, mind you, because I am not "old." And anyone who is "old" will probably laugh at this post.
But here they are. Seven signs I'm getting older.
1) I look forward to Cartalk each week and I was sad when they announced they were retiring.
2) Similar to the above, I listen to NPR. A lot of NPR. In fact I'm more partial to talk radio than music in the car now.
3) I really hate the vast majority of pop music. Granted I was never much of a fan, but I find myself saying things like, "Gah, pop music today is horrible. It lacks innuendo and imagination." Where are the classics like "I Want Your Sex" or "Erotic." Alright all pop music lacks innuendo and imagination.
Note: Maybe listening to the radio in a car ride while pondering this blog had a big affect on me.
4) I get hungover. I never got hungover in college. Unless I drank an obscene amount. But now I get hungover after two drinks.
5) I wake up in pain. Not serious pain, but I wake up being sore when I didn't work out or with unidentifiable aches that weren't there when I went to bed.
6) The vast majority of the kids I work with were born after 9/11. Years after in fact.
7) My wife and I like reality competition shows (Survivor, Face Off, Hell's Kitchen, etc) and most of the contestants are younger than me. I look at them winning some huge prize and think to myself, "They're still in their twenties?!!?"
8) Movies are too loud. I love going to the movies. Always have. But now when I go I find myself cringing at the volume and am seriously thinking I should bring some earplugs when I go next.
Ah, shit. I should have wrote 8 things. Oh well, memory goes with age too.
I think the main point is that my wife and I are expecting our first child in just three months. Surprisingly, I'm not too anxious about the actual childcare part. It'll be hard and it'll be trying, I'm sure. Yet, I'm pretty sure both my wife and I will be as prepared as we can be for the actual child rearing. We've both worked with and had a lot of training in dealing with youth of all ages. True, it'll be different with our own, but still that's not bothering me so much.
As I sit and write. I think my main worry is being able to provide for my child. A struggling writer's career is, well, full of struggle. It's tough with just the two of us let alone adding another being completely dependent on us.
Another main worry is that fact that I'm doubting myself as a writer. See, the Insecure Megalomaniac post.
Regardless, I'm in this slight miasma. Tonight while driving home from the store, with ice cream and trash bags in tow (having a pregnant wife in grad school makes for interesting store visits), I starting thinking about signs that I'm getting older. I say older, mind you, because I am not "old." And anyone who is "old" will probably laugh at this post.
But here they are. Seven signs I'm getting older.
1) I look forward to Cartalk each week and I was sad when they announced they were retiring.
2) Similar to the above, I listen to NPR. A lot of NPR. In fact I'm more partial to talk radio than music in the car now.
3) I really hate the vast majority of pop music. Granted I was never much of a fan, but I find myself saying things like, "Gah, pop music today is horrible. It lacks innuendo and imagination." Where are the classics like "I Want Your Sex" or "Erotic." Alright all pop music lacks innuendo and imagination.
Note: Maybe listening to the radio in a car ride while pondering this blog had a big affect on me.
4) I get hungover. I never got hungover in college. Unless I drank an obscene amount. But now I get hungover after two drinks.
5) I wake up in pain. Not serious pain, but I wake up being sore when I didn't work out or with unidentifiable aches that weren't there when I went to bed.
6) The vast majority of the kids I work with were born after 9/11. Years after in fact.
7) My wife and I like reality competition shows (Survivor, Face Off, Hell's Kitchen, etc) and most of the contestants are younger than me. I look at them winning some huge prize and think to myself, "They're still in their twenties?!!?"
8) Movies are too loud. I love going to the movies. Always have. But now when I go I find myself cringing at the volume and am seriously thinking I should bring some earplugs when I go next.
Ah, shit. I should have wrote 8 things. Oh well, memory goes with age too.
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