It’s a strange thing becoming “old”. Not that I’m over the hill yet but the years are gathering on my shoulders and it becomes stranger and stranger each year to see the world transform around you. I get reminded of my confusion around the topic of change in Interview with the Vampire; The vampires have such a hard time coping with change and the modern ways and need new younger vampires to help them along.
I never quite understood the concept; What could be so hard?
Not that I need a young Louie now to show me the robes but I’ve come to understand the notion. This is a time when parents write internet meme’s about how the old days were instead of starting every sentence with “When I was your age” (now it’s just every other sentence!). Cars have head up display, celebrities communicate on twitter and Ralph Macchio looks more like Joe Pesci than the boy with the baby brown eyes.
It’s a confusing world. Robert Downey Jr has transformed from Bad Boy to Iron Man and if you want to see a certain movie chances are you can get it by the click of a mouse.
When I was twelve (or thirteen) a new fashion hit my generation – they were neon coloured clothes and hairbands. I detested the colours but two of my cousins smiled at me and told me I’d be wearing these colours within the years.
I told them “never”.
And I’m stubborn so even though I was wearing the colours within the year (possibly within a month) I always did it with a sense of shame.
Now my cousins are Facebooking grandmothers who remind me of my late, very much missed, grandmother.
And it’s those little things that hit me the most. Those little everyday things that show you how life goes on, repeats itself like an enormous film, looping with slight change. How can they not still be twenty? And I need to look in the mirror to remind myself that I’m not exactly twelve (or thirteen) anymore.
Familiar faces vanish and then reappear (like Billy Baldwin on Gossip Girl or an old friend reconnecting) and they may look the same but they are not the same.
I’m not over the hill yet though. I’m sure that when I’m even closer to the best-before-date I will have many new observations. The world surprises you. It has a way of ripping the grounds from underneath you and then rebuilding itself around you like nothing has happened, only you feel as if everything has been moved a little to the left (and you start bumping into things).
I don’t have Lestat’s problem. As comfortable as the “known” is I wouldn’t want to live in a world stuck in its cold war, smelling like a teen spirit. I’m happy to move forward and although the numbers are a bit frightening, and a tad tedious to think about it is exciting too to see what the world has to offer.
What the world does to the insides of a girl who saw Top Gun in the movies 9 times and listened to Johnny Hates Jazz on repeat. The surprises aren’t always pleasant but some of them are.
Like the coo of a dove that ripped me momentarily from one of the worst, most dreadful feeling of my life (or right up there with the top 10) and into a memory of peace, solace and happiness.
Or a little girl with a purple cap saluting and giving you permission to come aboard.
I used to think that nothing could ever surprise me.
Boy was I wrong!