30
Mar
17

Fifty WHAT?!

It’s the last 24 hours of my 56th year. What the fuck?! Somebody please take the foot of the accelerating aging pedal! I go from being invincible to – “Holy Shit, I’m looking in the mirror at an adolescent trapped in old lady’s body!” I still have tons of energy. I don’t think like an old fart…well, except that I don’t like loud music, and I can’t tolerate people. Okay. I’m more like a grumpy old man trapped in the body of an old lady.

The difference between 50 and 57? Yikes! From age 55-56 I developed the turkey neck. Not gobbling that up. I saw photographs of me on stage, granted the lighting sucked, but now I see the wrinkled neck…(barely, because my eyesight is not as keen. I guess ignorance is bliss. If my eyesight is bad enough, I can’t see the pours in my face, or the occasional whisker on my chin that is 2 centimeters long. WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM!? Pluck.

And though I am still Speedy Gonzales, I’m not sure if speedy pulled a muscle every time he put on his sneakers! I pulled out my back while clipping my toe nails. And the mind? Oh the mind. Never experienced anxiety and clinching ones teeth before the last decade. Worrying about shit I could care less about before. But also, as you get older, fact is, you lose close friends, and worse than that, family, dropping like flies. And even idols…favorite actors and musicians that only your generation will know, love, appreciate, and quote…and get it. You can waste a perfectly good joke that will go over most people’s heads, because they really don’t relate. It’s not that they’re dumb. They just never experienced the classic humor or talent of a Maxwell Smart.

And here comes the grumpy old man in me – humor is so crude these days. Shock value is one thing, but anyone can go to extremes, being sexually explicit. It’s almost contrived. Back in my day, (and please do imagine myself on a rocking chair with an exaggerated old timer accent), people were clever and funny. Now many of the comedies and comedians go to lengths for laughs that leave me with a sour face.

And then of course, because the priority is no longer sex, sex, and sex for a married woman in her late 50’s, we tend to get involved in politics. And this is the saddest state I have ever seen in my lifetime. It is pure insanity. We are truly moving backward. Facts and logic are out the door, along with my thirst for sex. So the best substitute is watching the entire country get fucked by complete incompetent, lying unqualified assholes and ignoramuses. Political Porn.

Oh Linda, do you have anything nice to say?  Yeah. I still love to eat. Eating brings me great pleasure. Ah, but then I think about all of the starving refugees. I sit here in my cushy life, which I have not much to complain about…(although without my own child – biggest regret of my life)…and wonder how I can make a difference for these poor people. Oh! Maybe I should invite a family into my house. I have enough room. But then I think, they will take too long of a shower. And then I have to talk to them. And then I’ll learn what a horrific existence they have had. And how there are millions more like them. If you REALLY think about it, it will drive you insane. I believe I am still quite sane. (Although I am becoming forgetful.)

I have my shit together, other than blatantly not giving a shit how I act in public. If I want to be silly, and blurt out a silly sound while opening a heavy door, I will! And then I will laugh, because it’s funny–while others who might have observed this action, will look at me as if I am nuts.  And OMG, Millennials, or whatever you call those smug young, entitled, know-it-nothing-alls, nose up in the air, who don’t know shit about anything, and how the generations before them fought for their lattes, judging you without credentials.

And then there are the “alternative facts” cancerous beings on the planet. Seriously? I’m out of order? The whole damn court is out of order. Our 4 fathers are rolling over in their graves. But at least my father is still alive, but he is rolling over, losing sleep over witnessing the most illogical, lying, manipulating, selfish fucks ruining this country and the world! There comes a point where I just want to shut off the entire corrupt, upside-down lot of them, and live in my bubble. But it’s not enough for me. I must make a difference. Through my art? I dunno. I enjoy doing that.  So, how do I really make a difference? Even with one star fish?

As I don’t have kids, and I have a great love for them, this summer I have volunteered to work with The Boys and Girls Club of Tucson, to start a summer program in performing arts, and create a play with the kids. Bring them into a stimulating, fun, creative environment, and hopefully bring them some joy, inspiration, and guidance to give them a more fulfilling life. Compassion. Not enough people have it these days. It’s all about them. Fuck the planet! Who needs clean air? Fuck you Trump. You are aging me. And so is the air you are fucking.

The best birthday present I could ask for on Friday, is for justice. Stop all the lying. Clean those fuckers out of the White House. Talk about wrinkles? That clown needs to be impeached. (With a bow on it, please!)

Ahhh, aging. The only thing is that it gives you license to babble. And at 3:55 am, my mind just won’t shut up. What should I do for my birthday? Have an anxiety attack, and eat cake. Pull a muscle while blowing out the candles.  (Holy Shit, I am 57)50th-Birthday-Cake-Ideas-Toilet-Paper

 

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Linda Chorney


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