Normally I keep bald. I take my trusty clippers and groom that do close and tight. I look sharp and the practicality of being hairless can’t be beat. If I’m feeling particularly lazy, I’ll let it grow out just a little. This past week, I was feeling a little lazy, grew it out a little. Found me a handful of grey hairs.
I understand most people, upon finding the first grey hair, go through a crisis as time sneaks up on them. A moment of vanity as one struggles with the passing of youth, the finiteness of life pressing into the conscience like a thumb into clay. The expression of my aging angst left every hair on my melon meticulously shorn. I can breathe a sigh of relief as I live in denial just one more youthful day.
Honestly, I do think mid life is upon me and all the crises with it. Other than shaving my dome, or having a nervous thought here or there. I am going to pretend I’m handling it all gracefully. I have been revisiting hobbies once loved from the days of yore. Those visits have been really nice. Nostalgia certainly gives a feller perspective. The goals and dreams seemed so large back in the day. Larger than life, it seemed. Nowadays, I marvel at how small those dreams really were and how much bigger life really is.
All in all, this middle age thing is not so bad. I do have more reason and want to take better care of myself. Exercise more, eat better, and appreciate them little things just a bit more. Any nervousness I might have is great motivation to shed older badder habits in favor of newer better. I survey those habits like a farmer survey’s their crops. Yep, the “taking friends to dinner and giving gifts” yields results in feelings of good will. We’ll keep that crop. Meanwhile, the harvest of “alcohol fueled coping” ain’t what it used to be. ‘Spose it’s time to till that plot, and plant us a new crop of “Blessin’ countin'”. Heard those crops always paid dividends.
Among the changes I want to make: Less school, more art.
I did great this past semester, got all them A’s. Maintained that GPA. Yet the achievement feels hollow. I go through the motions so that I might have a job that pays better. Significantly better, admittedly. I know in my heart of hearts I won’t enjoy that job nearly as much as I do my arts and crafts. I missed writing here and drawing there. I just finished More Different and updated Odding and I can’t tell you how good it feels. The excitement I have over finishing those makes me eager to do more. Looking over plans for the other books, my soul salivates.
It’s a damned good feeling that sense of purpose.
Sigh . . . We’ll see. Balance responsibilities with passions. Diligence in both.