My birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I will be 45. (45 is still the new 35, right?) In a couple of ways, I'm not looking forward to it. I guess it's not so much an aging thing (although I would appreciate my body not spontaneously falling apart like it seems to be lately)... so much as a dark tea-time of the soul. OK, maybe that's "not-quite-as-light mid-afternoon snack-time of the soul" -- but instead of chocolate it's one of those "chocolate" snacks made with too much paraffin that make you fart at socially inopportune moments.
Yeah. That kind of crisis of the soul.
Various friends remind me that life is filled with ups and downs, and that for me 45 is the new 25. (15 was also offered, but I think I'll pass.)
Anyway, part of me recognizes that I have little to complain about, and that crises like this are a little indulgent. Still, late at night, I seem to be channeling my inner Antonio, the Merchant of Venice... and then I listen to Pink Martini sing "Jai déjà passé un bon moment. Un bon moment autrefois."
I need to work on changing that inner sound-scape to Miss Peggy Lee singing, "Is That All There Is?"
Or maybe something by the B-52's (do they do Peggy Lee covers?). And then I need to write something and limit my use of using social networking services.
And plan a birthday party. Something with dancing. Something with little snacks. Something with stars. Something with music taken from the Christmas tree growing music from The Nutcracker, the Aquarium movement from Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns's Carnival of the Animals, or Vaughan Williams' Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis.
Or maybe a day spa... anyone know of a good John Mall I can visit?
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