boxes

Working at the new job I've been trying to keep my age secret.  Which is kind of not my norm, I've never been the person to keep secrets.  (Filters, what?)

It bothers me, that I was doing this.  So I've started to leak the news.  Yes, I'm 39 and on the verge of an AMAZING 40TH BIRTHDAY PARTY.   (Oh, it will be epic. NOLA trip and then NYC party.  I don't do small)

As the younger folks are finding out my digits they come by, ask for confirmation, then get that look...and I get why I'm bothered.

The box.

In the study of psychology you learn people need to categorize and stereotype in order to better understand the world.  Everyone draws the borders differently based on their experience, but the brain works in certain ways.  So it is.

I love me.  I love my life.  I love my friends.  I love all the choices I've made.  I am one of the rare people you'll meet who's dreams come true.  Move and live in NYC?  Check.  Run the NYC marathon?  Check. Experience broadway shows?  Check.  Have the most amazing adventure of a life with amazing stories as a result?

Super duper check.

Yeah, even in high school I never was the girl who dreamed of big weddings and kids.  They've never been on my radar, it just isn't part of my story.  Which is awesome to me because I have all this free time to do amazing things.  The problem is that people judge.  They have these ideas of who you should be based on their visions of themselves.

One of the main reasons I moved to NYC was because I've never really been like anyone else, and here it is just easier to live that way.  Hell, often you are rewarded for standing out.

But for some reason the next decade seems to be putting me back in the box.  The walls are finite.  You seem so much younger.  You don't act that old.  I thought you were xx.

You can't be that age because you don't fit my idea of that age.   Therefore you are "that age but"

Absolutely maddening.  I refuse to be defined by anything, especially my age.  And that is the truth.

As always, I don't want to be defined by anything at all.  Age or anything.  Just me.  Is that still possible?

good times and air supply

One of my favorite memories.

A million years ago I was still working as a waitress at the original National Coney Island on Garfield in Clinton Township.  At the time I may have been 22, my sister 18.

For some unknown reason a pair of tickets to see Air Supply at Pine Knob became available.  For free.

To be honest I'd heard of them, but kind of like a joke.  Tongue in cheek kind of band.  We all know the songs but it isn't rock or pop...its sappy.

Me being who I am I said "heck yeah" to free tix, and took my willing sister along for the ride.

We arrived at Pine Knob, and the seats were for the second to last row in the pavilion.

To an almost empty stadium.  Yeah, like we wouldn't move up.

So we did.  We just walked up to the 4th row.  Waited for the band to come on.  How bad could it be?  Air Supply.  Ha ha ha.

The band came on.  HOLY AMAZING!!  We knew all the songs!  And everyone there knew them all too!  We all joined together rejoicing in the pure brotherhood, living the joy of singing along with a band with songs you want to sing.

I left that concert realizing that 1) I love Air Supply 2) things people may mock are awesome so screw fitting in to give up that fun 3) never turn down free tickets to anything.

A real bonus is the fact my sister and I share this odd bond of loving a band no one from our generation really gets.  We walked out of there with an unashamed love of Air Supply in the time of Nirvana and Pearl Jam.

So for all you haters out there, just wait for the next kaeoke night.  And all of you who get it...awesomesauce.  :)

Oh, and I'm all out of love for making love out of nothing for all and even the nights are better because I'm lost in love.

That's right.

Bring it.