Aggravation (143) Anxiety (94) April Fool (1) Bitchiness (65) Bobby (84) BP (7) Burning in Hell (36) Bush (66) Calme au Blanc (13) Catholic Church (33) Charlotte Cushman (11) Cobalt Blue (26) Confusion (11) Crime (22) Daily Life (145) Dangling Conversations (46) Deep Thoughts (49) Depravity (29) Depression (46) Divertissement (15) Embarrassing Moments (17) Family (44) Friends (110) Frozen (15) Fun (60) Gay (67) Gertrude Stein and a Companion (19) Glass Menagerie (34) Good Things (72) Government (58) Gustav (16) Hate (20) Holidays (36) Hope (37) Hugging the Shoulder (6) Humid City (9) Humor (155) Hurricanes (3) Internets (8) Jesus (5) Justice (6) Katrina (119) Latrine (15) Life in the Quarter (353) Louisiana (12) Mardi Gras (85) Mark Rylance (1) Movie Stars (35) Music (22) Nagin (20) New Orleans (126) News (28) Nighthawks (29) NOLA Partee (1) Obits (12) Our-Leaders-in-Their-Wisdom (111) Outlaw City (126) Personal (406) Photography (532) Pity Post (11) Politics (79) Religion (20) Retirement (11) Righteous Shit (24) R I P (12) Sadness (37) Saints (19) Search-Engine Crap (20) Sex (34) Sick Humor (61) Silly Stuff (152) Southern Decadence (22) Striking Words (23) Stupid Shit (217) Take Me Out (41) Tattoos (18) Tennessee Williams (65) Theatre (510) The End (1) The Human Comedy (15) Thinking Blogger Award (1) Thrill Me (37) Treme (7) Valhalla (42) War (28) Weekly Photo Challenge (41) Weird Shit (9)
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Behind the (Shower) Curtain
I can remember when I'd pull myself out of bed in the morning and toddle over to the PC in my little makeshift office and lose myself for hours in a virtual world of limitless scenarios and possibilities.
Now, not so much.
I still pull myself (painfully) out of bed and stagger (not toddle) unsteadily to the PC in my little makeshift office, but I'm no longer losing myself for any length of time in any world at all.
I've lost track of all the old haunts I used to visit on a regular basis, and there are lots of RSS feeds I just mark as "Read" and move on.
I don't even do so good on Facebook. Hardly anybody speaks to me over there anymore, not even my old high school classmates who were once so eager to reconnect.
"OMG! Can it be? Yay, there's another one of us still alive!"
I guess you've got to drag yourself to a few of those reunions or they start thinking you might be too big for your britches and for them.
A friend recently mentioned that he's finding himself becoming anxious and maladroit (I like that he said "maladroit"—how many people do you know who can feel "maladroit" instead of just plain "awkward"?) in social situations. I say welcome to the club.
There comes a time in every man's life when he has to face the fact that the world has passed him by, that there is no longer a place for him in the social circles he used to take for granted. Everybody in the world is younger than he is and sees him as an old out-of-date dinosaur who needs to just die already and start contributing to the world's supply of future fossil fuel.
A time when he has to realize Mrs. Bates awaits us all.
That is the natural order of things. Get used to it.