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“It’s criminal…there ought to be a law…
“Criminal! There ought to be a whole lot more.
“You get nothing from nothing
“Tell me who can you trust?”

A and M Young from "If You Want Blood"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The house is quiet.

Sheree’s off shooting Ultimate Fighters. No doubt she’ll come back enthusing about the many images she’s taken of bloodied cage warriors and delighted fans. I’ll be glad to look at them. But for now it’s just me and our old lady cat. And the music. Always the music.

I am playing around with images I took with my new Nikon D5000. It has a nifty little screen I can bend down or over (the screen. Not me)…and THIS allows me to take some spiff close-up shots of my own eye. Ain't tech grand? I could probably take an image right up my own right nostril if I wanted to...which (lucky for you) I don't.

I am thinking back a few lifetimes ago to when I was in college. One day I shrugged my shoulders and decided to make my goal "becoming a reporter." So I was working toward a career in journalism with a dozen other young people. We all vowed to change the world one day. I was a reporter for twelve years…but oddly enough, as far as I know, none of us managed to change a damn thing, let alone the whole world. The world, it turns out, is impervious to change. Who knew?

I remember college: darkrooms filled with foul smelling chemicals. I remember too many late night study sessions. I remember the sharp and welcome sting of cold beer at the back of my throat. I remember the two step my heart did on the rare occasions when a pretty girl smiled at me...and the way my soul flew into a thousand joyful pieces when Jimmy Page or one of the Young brothers ripped loose with a perfect riff. I remember being young. I still am. Young.

At least I think…I am…young.

I look at the eye looking back at me and I wonder where the gray hair came from and when that eye started looking so old. I don’t feel old. I feel like I’ve always felt: that I am just getting started…that miles of life are still in front of me...a literal infinity of “days to come.”

The eye staring back at me says something different. It promises that there are fewer days to come than those behind…that gray hair appears for a reason…and that bald spot at the top of my head isn’t an illusion. I am getting older.

**sigh**

I sit here with my precious Bose earphones on my ears listening to other old people sing to me. They are time travelers, because they are singing to me in my now, from a time when neither of us was so old. I hear Bon Scott and Bruce Springsteen. Billy Idol and Robert Plant…and I think that we must all be old now.

Aren’t we?

Are we?

Are you?

I ask the question because as I wrote this, Angus just slammed home a riff that made my soul rise to meet it. I paused to close my eyes so I could simply exist and enjoy it.

Are we old?

I ask the question because I can hardly count the sleeps until Sheree and I get into the car and go poke around Sturgis – the biggest biker rally in the world. I am beside myself with anticipation at the people we will meet…the things we will do. We’re going to hear Bob Dylan (who is SIXTY-FRICKING-NINE this year)...and ZZ Top, guys who were born looking old, and who are rocking harder than ever.

I wonder if I will ever be old…and I wonder if the people of my generation know HOW to get old. I wonder if there will ever be a time when we are too old to love…too old to stop and listen to good music…or look in wonder at a sunrise knowing, as we do, that there are a finite number of them ahead of us. I wonder when we will be too old to feel our spirits sing at the promise of a new adventure.

I wonder if I will ever be old…

…I hope not.

[VIVA LA WHITE GIRL! :D Just thought I'd put that out there :)
I was sick today, I've had a sore throat since Friday and had a fever most of the weekend and today I have a cold and headache. I spent a lot of my day reading. :D]


[ps - I'm bored so I'm going to do that '16 things' thing that everyone else does because I'm a loser. A bored loser. Here we go...

1. I hate when people spell my name wrong. Is it really THAT hard?!
2. I have a lot of scars, because I'm a klutz-o.
3. I hate when people are really emotional and take everything seriously. Honestly? I don't think your butt looks big in those jeans, now stop crying you wussie.
4. I hate winter. I'm a summer child. :D
5. I always get sick in February.
6. I'm Irish, Russian, Hungarian, English, German, and Scottish.
7. My pupils are always really big.
8. My hands are always cold.
9. I'm horrible at waking up.
10. I don't like my nose.
11. I try not to lie, mostly 'cause I'm really bad at it.
12. I'm sarcastic. And I don't like when people can't take a joke.
13. I'm not one of those 'high and mighty' kind of people. I don't think I'm superb at anything, and if I do, then I keep it to myself.
14. I probably spend more money on books, CDs/iTunes, and sweatshirts than anything.
15. I want to do something with art when I get older, or maybe psychology. I don't know.
16. My full name is Catherine.

If my faults are your song
Then I will not be content to sing along
If I'm the one that's making you so out of touch
Then why don't you just go ahead and...
Why don't you just go ahead and
Blame it on this southern weather
Blame it on anything
It's not like you to ask small favors
But you can blame me for everything
If I'm the cause of all your sickness and pain
Then I'll bury my face in the hall of dirty shame..
If this is just what's getting you so out of touch
Why don't you just go ahead and...