That's a warning title, to say that I am indulging myself and it might not be terribly amusing.
I am 50 now. Just this week the wheel clicked over and there I am-old. Because, to me, after 50 the process starts and in 10 years I will be old. This is OK, eyes, ears and knees could do with a refurbishment but generally, one is OK. I got my blood analysed and it seems to be remarkably humanoid.
But 50 years is a long time. I have been looking at a series of photo albums of my home town and the differences in 50 years are immense.From horses and carts in the main street to sleek kings of the sky, DC-3's, crashing onto people's greenhouses.
I have a lot to be thankful for: Family, friends and doors on the living room to stop Mrs. Cat getting out and killing us all in the night. I have met some fascinating people and seen pretty amazing animals (Tusked weta).
I am happy and proud to have helped to do some things that mean that we might have them around for a bit longer.
But, of course, life shows no mercy, and this year is not shaping up as real flash hot. My FIL died and my job is probably going the same way. At the time when I wanted to be able to stand back and re-asses it all and change my job, it is going to forced on me and I'll probably have to take whatever comes up. Certainly that is how it worked last time this happened. For there is one thing my generation knows, there's never a good job market.
The difference between the last time though is The Interwebs. If I have to stay home I will have more time to plague you all (assuming anyone has read this far). I will also have more time for writing which is a good thing. And the writing is connected with The Interwebs because this is where I took my first faltering (oh the pain) steps into the sea. Thanks to the Merconauts I tips my lid to them all.
Also, one could not ask for a better blog partner than Smut. A prince among men and funnier than Mrs Miggin's Narwhal and Walnut Date Surprise pie.
Well that's enough blather, thanks for coming and commenting, it has been a privilege to get to know youse all.
Birthday treats:
NSFW Bad Language
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
32 comments:
First! Because i Love you Eman.
Youngster!
Here I'd assumed AK was 47.
Good luck in everything and thanks for stuffing my intertubes with treats.
Keep on wittering and writing, Another Kiwi. There's folks out here who appreciate it. Happy, happy.
Happy Birthday AK!!! While I don't wish you a job loss, I'd selfishly like more Kiwi posts and poems.
Happy Birthday, young man!
(I hit the big 5-0 in November, 2009.)
Yur right, it's all downhill from here.
Best get a good pair of skis.
P.S. W.V. speeled trolladin rong. I might have to steel that one.
~
Here I'd assumed AK was 47.
Really, he doesn't look a day older than 49.
Old. At what point do we wrap ourselves in the mantle of old, like an aged woman pulls her shawl tightly around her shoulders against the frigid wind that knows her name? How is it we mark the threshold where we cross over, from 'young' to 'old'? Is even our choice to make?
Is 'old' the province of systemic failure, determined by a particular tipping point in the gradual decline of physical functions never considered in youth, or is it merely the province of inexorable time, a point on the calendar's pages where we are assumed to be 'old', regardless of our physical state?
Do we assume that once old, that wisdom will be available where previously there was only confusion and arrogance? Can we expect to actually UNDERSTAND the way the world works, or do we only receive grave nods from those younger, who later laugh at the futility of our enfeebled minds?
Is old a place, a state, a condition? Is old earned, or is old thrust upon us against all our best efforts to avoid it?
I'll tell you what I think. I think we live our lives fascinated by the concept of our own deaths. When young, we cannot imagine how death might come about, and we take terrible and wasteful risks, and are exploited by those who would prefer to cling to their own existence. Later, we develop something of an accommodation with death, a grudging acceptance of it's inevitability along with our own more considered efforts to delay the final act. Finally, when we have seen enough of the world, we have learned that kittens have teeth and there are monsters among the flower gardens, when we know enough of decline to know we will embrace a final sleep, finally, when we are old, we have a comfortable bond of respect with the old reaper. We are finally, after years of fearfulness and decades of denial, comfortable with the story arc of our own lives, and it is only once we are old that we understand that a story well-written includes a superb ending. An understanding that a life isn't always lived well, but it's important that it end well.
Happy birthday, my brother. We are old. There are worse things to be...
mikey
Really, he doesn't look a day older than 49.
I was going to say, he doesn't look 50, but he used to... :)
Here I'd assumed AK was 47.
A to the motherfucking K, homeboy.
I think we live our lives fascinated by the concept of our own deaths.
Now you've done it. AK is going to do the Rainer Maria Rilke voice and recite the Duino Elegies.
Hey, put a nickel in me and get me started on "OLD" and you pretty much shoulda seen it coming.
A steaming pile of regrets, resentments and repentances. Not the province of a healthy, vibrant outlook...
AK is going to do the Rainer Maria Rilke voice and recite the Duino Elegies.
Actually, that would be very cool...
That Bubba guy once posted some Rilke, and I like it too.
I only know this Rilke and it's pretty good. Those eulogies look quite long and what with my attention span and all...
Thanks to all for their comments, they are the sort of funny,intelligent and nice things that I thought you'd say. You people are pretty cool.
A prince among men
For the last few years of her life, when she was quite gaga, the Frau Doktorin's mother (my mother-out-law, you could say) insisted on calling me 'Prince'.
I never worked out whether she was mistaking me for a minor member of the Danish aristocracy, or an Alsatian dog.
Jimi Hendrix's ex girlfriend said,
...and you know we all saw him walking down the street with his hair and clothes and swagger and I thought...he looks like some kind of exiled prince...
An understanding that a life isn't always lived well, but it's important that it end well.
Just let it be quick & relatively painless.
Congrats to all the yout', I'd guessed many to be even younger; immaturity, I s'pose, & I mean that in the best possible way.
Refuse "maturity" until your second childhood!
A. Kiwi, you can always take up the Twitter to fill time.
I never worked out whether she was mistaking me for a minor member of the Danish aristocracy, or an Alsatian dog.
Perhaps she meant the artist formerly known as...
Thank AK for a humorous new neighborhood to hang around and for this.
Thanks to all for their comments, they are the sort of funny,intelligent and nice things that I thought you'd say. You people are pretty cool.
You're older than me. Sweet.
Also, don't click fish links.
Happy happy happy Birthday!! It's a joy to read this here bloggy blog.
Fish Links?
Hmm. I know Fish Strips, Fish Fillets, Fish & Chips and Fish Tacos, but Fish Links?
That would seem to describe - dare I even consider the possibility - Fish Sausage!
Although, hmm, with the right combination of fennel and cilantro, it seems at least worth TRYING...
Captcha is reforki - I guess he must have dropped his first one on the floor...
I'd still card you for chewing tobacco!
Happy Birthday, old (literally!) chum.
For the last few years of her life, when she was quite gaga, the Frau Doktorin's mother (my mother-out-law, you could say) insisted on calling me 'Prince'.
To be fair, that WAS during your "purple" phase.
Mikey,
FYI
...50 years is a long time
...not if you only remember half of it.
Welcome to the club!
Many happy returns of the day, and my best wishes going forward.
A cat faced fish sausage.
If ya live long enough you will see everything.
BUT IS THAT NESCESSARY!!??!!
Not so much necessary as, well, DESERVED...
Happiest of Birthdays! 50 ain't that old plus you get to start dressing really crazy!
Best wishes also to Mrs Kiwi, Youngest Kiwi, Mrs Cat and anyone else involved in supporting you in your dotage.
Post a Comment