I went out for a run the other day when it was kind of chilly, so I pulled on an old long-sleeved tee. It happened to be the shirt I got from the District cross-country meet in the fall of my freshman year of high school. It's huge on me (what was with the XL phase we all went through in the early 90s?) and has lost all elasticity in the cuffs, but it's soft and makes me laugh at its lovely navy-and-purple color scheme. It's also nearly 20 years old.Tweet
I realized that I felt weird to wear a shirt that had seen almost two decades of use, when I was the original owner. I have a few vintage t-shirts my mother gave me (I'm wearing one today, natch) that are older than my high school shirts, of course, and probably some Goodwill shirts approaching that age, but my high school shirts are in remarkably good shape for workout clothes, and I will keep wearing them until I can't (and then I'll entertain ideas of making a quilt out of them). It's just weird to think of wearing something I've owned for more than half my life.
Getting older doesn't bother me, for the most part (except when I complain about aches and pains, and this stupid cough I've had for a week would have been gone by now if I was younger). I figure as I age the weird feeling will happen more often as I develop more nostalgia, as everyone does.
My friend Kate celebrated her birthday yesterday (and my parents celebrated their wedding anniversary!) and we had dinner. We had a good time, but I always forget I'm a year older than most of my core of friends. It's not that big of a difference, it just sometimes makes me sad.
This website is now 11 years old. I know I haven't kept it up, and I always intend to do more with it, but I just don't have that much to say. There's that meme for "Draw My Life" running around the viral video sites, and as much as I love them, I just don't think my life would excite anyone. I'll spare you my stick figures. Have a good one after the jump.