Kevin Fanning: whygodwhy : 46: “you can’t believe the kids listen to this garbage and actually like it, and think it’s original. oh kevin, you remember now. here is the secret: the music on the radio is always mediocre. it just matters less when you are young and impressionable and everything seems new. who is that person who is you so long ago.” [via diveintomark]
I wonder what will happen to me as I get older. I see evidence now of a lesser me. Or is it less? It feels like less. I don’t go out as often as I used to. I listen to less music and more talk radio. I can sit and stare at my computer screen without even thinking about playing some music. I don’t read any good books. I don’t make any new friends.
I’m great at telling stories. I have thousands of them. Thousands of stories of the good times I’ve had and the crazy things I’ve done. Stories that any man would be proud to tell while throwing a few back at a pub with his buddies. But are those stories current? No. Not even close.
“so let me briefly draw your attention to this one point: you made a choice. your appearance versus your happiness. which was more important, being thin on the off chance that someone who doesn’t even matter, who will not ever matter, might think you are attractive? or eating cake and candy from foreign lands, which people enjoy to send you. let’s face it, there was never even a contest.”
It’s always been my choice along the way. There’s no way I can say that it hasn’t. The inertia involved with getting up and moving became more and more difficult to overcome. Eventually, staying still won over Mondays and Tuesdays. Then it took over Wednesdays and Thursdays. Then it got Sundays. But this has all been my own choice.
I’m not unhappy the way I am. I have good times. I have good friends. I do good things. But every now and then, the me of now really misses the me of then. I’d like to go out more often. I’d like to lose a few pounds. I’d like to go running once in a while. I’d like to be passionate about programming. I’d like to cook amazing meals every night for friends. I’d like to go out drinking on Friday nights and not worry about how I was going to get home. But I’ve done some growing up.
Being a grown-up is a good thing. Responsibility and obligation are the close friends of any successful, satisfied man. Over time I’ve learned that going out drinking or seeing the latest band at that crowded Dallas club very rarely leads to anything lasting. It very rarely leads to something that I take home, and keep, and hold close to my heart. Sure, it gives me stories to tell. Sure, I have a good time. But there is nothing there that really lasts.
When I do go out, the chances of me finding something or learning something worth holding on to and remembering are high. Much higher than when I went out every night that I could, and drank myself silly every chance that I got. And for this, I am grateful. In these things, I see justification for my habits. I see good behind the youth that I’ve given up, and the carefree days that are now an element of the past.
My sense of judgment is higher. I know how to tell what events are worthwhile, and which will simply amount to another frat-boy bar filled with empty conversation. I know how to tell which relationships are worth keeping, and which wont amount to anything more than another user in my life.
I see all these things and I know that it is good. I know that I am better off this way. Better than I was before.
But part of me — a tiny part of me — just wants to let loose and be a kid again. Just once in a while. Just every now and then. And I think I can. All it takes it a choice. My choice.
