The First Post
The Maiden Voyage
So here it is – my virgin post. And my foray into blogging. I suspect that blogging in itself is telling of my advancement towards middle age. I presume that all the young and trendy folk are vlogging instead. Vlogging is the new blogging, for a new generation. I don’t possess the pout, the hair, or the intricate knowledge of filters to be able to vlog. Vlogging is often young people with impossibly smooth skin illustrating how to put on make-up products that I don’t understand – dark brown highlighters that somehow turn you into Kim Kardashian – or eyelashes the size of my cat that are somehow applied with ease. The last time I tried either of these I ended up painting my face like an extra out of a horror film or applying eyelashes at a strange angle that made me look as though my face was being savaged by spiders.
Equally lots of vlogs are about how to work various devices; computer programmes, phones, apps, smartwatches, all of which totally bamboozle me. I did manage to create this website from scratch but I suspect that I have reached the limit of my information technology expertise. So these avenues are not for me, I shall stick to blogging where nobody needs to see my face or question my technical expertise.
The first hurdle to address is whether or not I actually have anything of interest to blog about. I do feel slightly exposed – just because I find something funny or interesting doesn’t mean that anyone else will. For this I unreservedly apologise in advance. For most of us life is made up of a series of relatively uneventful events, but there can be great beauty in these.
I find myself at an interesting point in my life; I still feel young but am having to admit that I am advancing towards middle-age and I am just not ready for it. I haven’t noticed that myself or my contemporaries look any older, just that young people have started looking ludicrously young. I find myself wondering whether the plumber/electrician etc are actually still at school? Do their mum’s know they’re out working? At best guess they must be 13/14 years old. Then no, it turns out that they are actually in their late 20s. I recall working at a nightclub for several years in my late teens and early twenties and Wednesday night was ‘Grab a Granny’ night. We used to look at the oldies in their 30’s and talk about how old they were. Oh to be as young as those ‘grannies’ now. Or indeed, to be grabbed.
I have found myself struggling to understand things about the younger generation – for example, I just don’t understand their hair? It seems to defy the laws of gravity. I remember watching The X Factor when One Direction were on and I could not for the life of me understand their hair. This was back in the day when Justin Beiber was an angelic looking cherub and they all had that hair that somehow seemed to start at the back of their heads and was brushed forwards towards their faces. I still can’t understand how that was physically possible, surely hair grows downwards, facilitated by gravity?
And the young person pout? This I do not understand either. It has clearly been developed for selfies but how do they learn to do it? Are they taught this in school along with multiplication of factors and subordinate conjunctions? Because I can’t make that face, I just don’t know how. And when I’ve tried, I just look as though I am having an allergic reaction to something.
These are clearly signs that I am getting older. I am trying to relinquish my youth and embrace middle-age and all that comes with it. The fact that sometimes I don’t want to go out at what feels like the time of day that I should be putting on my pyjamas and cosying up in front of the TV. That a good book and a bath is now more appealing than going to the pub. That gardening is starting to seem like a viable hobby, and that my essential accessory is now a thermos rather than a lipstick. I am trying to embrace all of this and enjoy the positives of the advancement of age. Not caring so much what others’ think, being confident in my own opinions and less concerned with fitting in with my peers, being more comfortable in my own skin. These are some of the benefits of getting older. For what I have gained in wrinkles, I have lost in insecurity. Which is pretty cool. It’s good to feel comfortable with being yourself. Because after all, as Oscar Wilde said, everyone else is already taken.