Comments on: An Inconvenient Youth

By: Roy Christopher » Amy Cohen: Bloomin’ Late

Roy Christopher » Amy Cohen: Bloomin’ Late — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 22:10:26 +0000

[...] some serious — even if a bit tangential — topics that her book got me thinking about again. She succumbed, but still managed to be [...]

By: Roy Christopher

Roy Christopher — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 03:15:19 +0000

I just opened McLuhan and Carson’s The Book of Probes and saw this (p.138):

“How can children grow up in a world in which adults idolize youthfulness?”

By: Roy Christopher » Predicting the Present

Roy Christopher » Predicting the Present — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 18:14:34 +0000

[...] other watermark exists to define adulthood in our [...]

By: barnie

barnie — Tue, 06 Mar 2007 04:15:04 +0000

i can feel a little bit of irony in the fact that i’m 29 (and already mentally prepared for the big 3-0), engaged, i still beat myself up riding a kids bike, and the kids bike rider i admire the most is the god damn blue falcon, all 38 years of him! uh-oh, and instead of a design/marketing degree i went and got a fine arts degree…
i just think that you have to live your life doing the things you really love and these days it may seem to many that some of these things are childish, hedonistic or irresponsible.
as adults we are (are we?) supposed to arrive at a point in our lives where we sacrifice time dedicated to the things we love to do, for what i understand as the pursuit of material wealth and the advancement of the human species.
no thanks.

By: Kristen

Kristen — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 21:23:11 +0000

On the occasion of my mother’s 30th birthday, she confided in a six-year-old me that she didn’t feel any older than she had at 18. Periodically on her future birthdays I’d remind her of that comment, and ask if she still felt that way. She always claimed she did.

Upon reaching 30 myself–which I had been looking forward to for about 16 years–I asked myself the same question. Do I really feel any older? I certainly didn’t feel “30″, and I don’t feel “32″ now. It’s not aches and pains I was expecting, I guess, but more a sense that I’d grown up. That I was done cooking (thank you, Buffy). But I feel no closer to done than I did when I was a teenager. Perhaps I feel even more undone.

A high school friend of mine’s father was 64 years his senior. He’d had a grown family and then divorced his wife to marry his mistress, and subsequently fathered my friend. By the time my friend was graduating high school his father was 81 and divorcing again to marry his new sweetheart. I have to admit that when I think about it now, more than anything else I’m *jealous* of his unabashed belief that he could reimagine his life at 81 years old!

When I start to think I’m supposed to be a grown up, or settled, or nearing some imaginary finish line, I think about my mom and about my friend’s dad. Then I eat another Fla-Vor-Ice and rollerskate some more around the livingroom.