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illgato

Madison, WI / Peoria, IL

Member Since 2005

Followers 4 Following 8

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Friday Apr 21, 2006

Apr 20, 2006
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Lately I've been feeling old. I'm not. I know that, I just feel it.

A couple of my good friends have been hanging out with recent and soon-to-be high school grads lately, and when we get around them and get talking, half of them just look at us and have no idea what in the flying fuck we're on about. They're alright guys, don't get me wrong, it's just kinda weird sometimes. I mean, we'll be talking about stuff from when we were in school or little kids. It's not ancient history; it's barely 15 years old at most. Then there's the one kid that bummed a smoke from me and I found out a week later he was only 16. That made me feel like shit. >_<

I look at my music and realize 75% of it is from 1990 to 1996, 15% is from 1960 to 1980, and the rest is newer stuff from the 90's bands or bands with one album. Most of my music is 10 to 15 years old. I heard Bush on the oldies station. I heard Marcy Playground and the Foo Fighters on the classic rock station. I wondered what the hell was going on. I called up the station that plays the newer stuff and requested some Primus I've heard them play. They said they don't have that on their list anymore. Why? It's too old. Thanks.

I see girls who graduated years behind me pregnant and married. I see people I've known for years in established careers and doing well for themselves. I see close friends already handling divorce, two-year-olds, and mortgages. I see girls here that could be my little sister. I see it all around me and feel old.

I've got two months until my last meaningful birthday. Ten years ago I couldn't wait to be a teenager. Ten months ago I was glad to be rid of that stigma and the generalizations it brought. Now I'm the new generation and I already feel the ones behind me eager to replace me. I see my best friend's daughter and realize that she's going to be the one that my generation raises. She will be one of the ones we hand the reins to in 20 years.

I'll be settled into my cushy position at Whateverthehell Corp when she drops off a resume. I'll look it over, ignore a few spelling erros and call her back for an interview. She'll get the job, and, in another 20 years, I'll be out the door with a pension plan and a 401K while she picks up a resume and ignores a few spelling errors.

It took me a fraction of a second to get from zero to twenty and I feel this next fraction slipping by already.

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