The Inevitable (AKA, I am old) (AKA, I love Birbigs)

I do not understand why people hasten the inevitable. For instance, I know two men who consistently lie upward about their age. One in my trainer, who always makes himself a year older, and the other is one of my pharmacists who makes himself 50, even though he isn't yet, and could easily pass for being about 40.

Whenever Al, my trainer, says he's 54, I say, "Al, why do you hasten the inevitable? You're 53." And Al says, "Yeah, I know. What's the difference?"

Whenever Bruce, my pharmacist, says he's 50, I say, "No you're not, you dork! Why do you insist on saying that? You're not even 49!" And Bruce says, "Yeah, I know. But what's the difference?"

What's the difference?! I am sure not the person to ask! I *freaked out* when I turned 27! I actually thought, "Well, what's a good lie? How old can I say I am, but still be, like, a grownup, and have my timeline of work experience not be suspect?" I think I settled on 24, but it was a moot point, because nobody asked me once, in 12 months, how old I was. Then I turned 28 and stopped giving a shit. Because I'm NOT old. I guess.

I was leaving my apartment the other day with my roommate, and at the last minute, I shot back in because I wanted to grab this CD I just bought. Amanda said, "Oh, what CD is it?"

I said, "It's that guy I was telling you about that I LOVE, Mike Birbiglia!"

"Oh yeah!" she said.

"Oh man, he is so freakin' awesome, " I said, engaging in my new favorite pastime, aside from talking about how awesome Seth Green is and how awesome Beck is, which is talking about how awesome Birbigs is. "He's like wicked young. He's our age."

Medium-length pause. Followed by, "Oh."

"What?" I said.

"Well, when you said young..." Amanda said.

"Oh, right," I said. "I forgot. You don't think we're young."

"We're not," said Amanda.

I do not feel quite as comfortable lying about my age now, which I apparently should be doing, see as how I am now old. Again. And what with all the views and stereotypes of the so-called "mature" or "non-traditional" student, which I am due soon to be, I really need to get my ass to work on tricking people. Alas, I think it might not work. Here's why.

Last night I was at a liquor store in Skaneatles and I happened to spy a bottle of the particular kind of dry sherry my dad favors, which I was unable to find around the holidays. Anywhere. I picked it up and took it over to the counter for purchase, whereupon I asked the lady, "Do you know why this stuff is so difficult to find?"

"No, I don't," she said. Which was fine. Almost nobody (myself included) knows anything about sherry, because almost nobody (myself included) drinks it, because it's repulsive.

"Okay, well. I'm glad you have it," I said, and pulled out my wallet, which contains my money and my driver's license.

WHICH SHE DID NOT ASK FOR.

Didn't even bat an eye! Just told me my total and sent my on my merry way with a bottle of alcohol as if to say, "Sure! You look old enough to drink that!"

Well that's true! I do! But I wasn't going to, because it's repulsive, and she didn't have to imply such a thing!

And I didn't even notice that she didn't ID me, until today, when I saw the same item for six dollars cheaper elsewhere, got annoyed about that, and then got annoyed about the other thing.

Hence, the Inevitable.

Seth Green, Beck and Mike Birbiglia are awesome.

I know stuff about drugs

Today I was at work, working (I know that kinda sounds like a gimme, but trust me: unless you're me, or a small, select group of others, it is NOT) when Stephanie, one of the keyers calls my office (read: CAVE) and says, "Hello?"

"Hello!" I say, making an effort to be cheerful despite the fact that I am really in the mood to either crash to the floor or drink a whole urn of coffee.

"Do you have any Tylenol #4 back there?" she says.

"Nope!" I say confidently, because I do not.

"No?" Stephanie says. "Okay. Thanks."

And then she hangs up.

And then it occurs to me that I did not even know there was such a thing as Tylenol #4, or "acetaminophen with quite THAT much codeine!"

There is.

In fact, I didn't even know there was such a thing as Tylenol #1. I guess it stood to reason that there would be, since there's #2 and #3. But all I know about those is that no one ever gets #2 and that #3 has a big "3" on it and comes in really handy if someone takes out all your wisdom teeth. (In my case, there were 3 of them. How interesting...)

In case you were curious, Tylenols #1, 2, 3 and 4 contain, respectively, 1/8, 1/4, 1/2 and 1 grain of codeine.

Also in case you were curious, Platypi have venom in their hind claws and it's possibly that only half of a shark brain sleeps while the other half is awake, and then they switch. And I love Wikipedia. And Target.

-C

The thing is...

Original title: The thing is...
Original date of publication: November 3, 2007*

The thing is, it should have been easier.
Trading empathy for understanding
Understanding for reproach
And reproach for indifference set into motion under the influence
Faded into the background one autumn night.
Volumes of writings, it turns out, can't be set aside
Can't be bonfired away, even when you make me too mad to even tolerate.
Sooner or later, a window opens. Through it, a woman catches a glimpse of a figure
Moving in a crowd. Adapting, shifting, moving forward into the future. His future.
Someone's future, anyway.

My friend, there was no indifference.

Reproach, all right, and a lack of understanding
Of what in the world had happened
Of where one can go so wrong.

She thought of you often, however.
With fondness and with anger
And with hope that you'd put your head on straight.
There are times when we pull the blame all over and around ourselves
Like the blankets on a January morning, and times
When we just cannot get far enough away.
If you ever wondered why…?
If every headline is a love note
And ever letter to the editor an exercise in candor
No need remains to be in any way dishonest.

*As to when exactly I wrote it, I couldn't tell you.