I have recently surpassed a milestone, where I have made it to 50-years-old. Not sure that I like the whole “milestone” thing. According to the Oxford English Dictionary it is “To mark (a stage, etc.) like a milestone; to measure (a journey, etc.) as if by milestones.” I am not sure that attaining 50 is an actual milestone. Fifty is just one year older than the previous year. Besides, it seems that kind of thing, reaching milestones, is reserved for older people. Children, teenagers, and even young adults don’t generally hit milestones. Well, they do, but I am not sure they notice. When older folk (euugh “older” folk) hit milestones, they generally do so with wine–either by the act of celebrating, or wallowing–it really depends on the milestone.
Anyway, I’ve made it to half a century. So have my shoulders, my ears, my knees, and my feet. I think that should warrant a big “C” Century. Some of these parts feel 50, while some of them look 50. I am not sure what 50 should look like. My brain is 50-years-old as well, but it protests somewhat. Not protesting in the sense that I do not want to be 50, but more in the sense that I don’t feel like I am 50.
But what should a 50-year-old feel or act like? Am I expected to now reprimand people? Does one experience a higher level of maturity at 50? Must I get rid of my comic books? (Yes, I still like comic books.) Do I need to suppress my love of cookie dough ice cream? What about my penchant for KD mac and cheese?
I do know that at 50 some things, like gaining weight and not giving a shit, get easier. Nowadays I just have to look at food, any food, and I gain weight. I swear even healthy food that has some fat content stays with me. The “not giving a shit” part is not in the I don’t care sense, but more in the I realize that I should not care so much what others think sense.
I’ve realized too that I believe my brain has reached critical mass. Let me explain. The moving of something out of my house to make room for something new coming in is not an automatic process. It is something I have to physically do, something I must actually think about before acting on it. And it is something, that at times, I struggle with.
My brain on the other hand, seems to have a mind of its own, and has arbitrarily put this process on automatic. My brain has reached the point where it has decided to arbitrarily dump stuff. Old stuff, new stuff, important stuff, there really is no rhyme or reason to how this process works. Some things become temporarily lost at the most inopportune moment, or they become forever lost in that steel trap that just won’t let go.
Perhaps I should relish in the fact that my mind can store 50 years of memories… somewhere. When something comes to me out of the blue, I know it’s my brain tossing me a carrot. Now, what is that word for that thing that I do when I do that other thing that I do? Oh, I’m sure it will come to me sooner or later.