The Question of Age

I probably should have warned you that I was going to put a giant picture of a scary moth on today’s post. I wasn’t going to at first. I was going to put something else up and then link to it so if you’re squeamish you could choose not to click on it. But then I hit the blog dry spell and couldn’t find anything else to put up. Oh it’s a crappy day at secret-agent-josephine.com!

Just kidding.

Everything is fine here. Yesterday was a surprisingly busy day. The fake mock ups are going swimmingly and I like working again. For a while there I thought I was going to die a slow death of boredom. I really really really hate being bored at work. I know I should be thankful to get paid to stare at my nose, but I hate it! I’ve quit jobs over being bored. I slowly go mad. Thankfully, they asked me to sketch up some drawings of a photo shoot they might do and I decided to do my sketch on the computer instead (because I’m faster with a mouse than I am with a pencil). Guess what!?? They might use my illustration and skip hiring a photographer! Wooo Hoooo! I love being paid as an illustrator. I know I’ll never break into the whole illustration industry. There are way too many crazy talented artists out there that put me to shame. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get an illustration or two published now and then. We’ll see what becomes of it. Right now the project is still imaginary. That’s fine with me.

It beats taking pictures of the giant moth that was out in the hall. This thing was so scary. I should have put a quarter up next to it or my finger so you could gauge it’s size. I was too afraid it might bite me to get that close. You’ve seen these moths before. They are about 4 inches big. How do they get so big and what are they called? How many of them are there? Do they live in colonies? Why do I only see one when I do see them? Thank God I only see one. Can you imagine if a swarm of these things dive bombed your head?!! That would be one of my greatest fears. Good thing I never watched Silence of the Lambs

Another fun thing that happened, at work yesterday, was the “Guess how old Brenda is” game. Everybody who knows me loves to play this game with their unsuspecting friends. Mostly because all my life I’ve looked at least five years younger than I am. I know, I know this is a good thing. But believe me, most of my life it has not been a good thing. For example it was very hard to get my first real job; and another, I think I got passed up on a few promotions because they thought I was just a “kid”. But anyway, it does have it’s advantages and lately these advantages have been paying off. Who wants to look thirty-three when you can look twenty three?! Or at least that’s what I thought.

The game did not go as well as usual yesterday. Everybody was throwing out numbers like twenty six and twenty seven. It was all good and then this one girl piped up l from another room, “THIRTY THREE!” she yells. What! How could she know? She reads my blog. She cheated! Everybody in the room gasped. Could it be true? Yes, I nodded, I am indeed that old. “I knew because she has two gray hairs on the side of her head,” yelled the girl from the other room. I glared at the voice behind the wall.

What!!!! My secret is betrayed by two gray hairs! Is this the end of the era of getting away with acting five years younger than I really am? Are people going to start thinking I’m wise and should know how to do complicated math problems and stuff!? Do I have to start wearing nylons? Oh no!

All my life I’ve planned on letting my hair go gray naturally. I like silver hair. My mom has mostly white and silver hair and over the years her color changed in the most beautiful way possible. It started with “frosting” at the front (it was the 80’s) and gradually turned to almost completely white now in 2005. I like to imagine myself looking like a wizened Native American with long black hair, peppered with streaks of silver. Maybe I’ll start wearing turquoise bracelets to go with my hair. I know I’m weird, but I kinda like being the “tree hugging, granola eating, berkenstock wearing” sort of woman. I think I can pull it off.

Until yesterday, that is. I actually got a little scared inside. It kinda surprised me that my hair could give away my age so accurately. I think my face still looks young and I don’t wear make-up that often. But two gray hairs! (I actually have more, it’s just those two on the side that are obvious.) I instantly thought of pulling them out and then all those commercials you see on television of women with “vibrantly beautiful hair.” Should I? Is now the time to finally fit in with everyone else in my neighborhood and go blonde? Naaaah. I’ll never do that. Well, not when I have that much hair on my head anyway. If I cut it really short again, I might bleach it blonde. Just for kicks. But I’m going to wait a good long while before that. I want my daughter to get to know the real me before I hit mid life crisis and go completely unpredictable.

But I do think I am going to get my hair cut today if I can find a salon that will fit me in. The amazing French haircut has finally grown out completely. I’m so sad. I wish I could go back to Paris to get it cut again. That was such a fun experience. If I was a French girl, I would never look old. No matter how many gray hairs I had.

Ending Friendships

I’m wondering if it is normal to become selfish when you hit your thirties? I no longer want to make the effort to mend friendships that I used to tend to daily as if my life depended on them. I’m wishing that I could let my friendships fade into the sunset to be picked up again another day when times are good. Why can’t we just pick up where we left off and laugh and tell jokes? I know life is not all a laugh parade but why does it have to get so ugly sometimes?

I’m so ashamed that I can count so many friends I’ve broken up with. Who is this horrible person I’ve become? I’m turning the comments on this post off because I feel like such a hypocrite saying these sad things and yet so many kind loving people write such wonderful things to me that I don’t deserve.

Remember that old 80’s song by Belinda Carlisle? Oh such a cheesy song. But I remember thinking about the words a lot when I was a teenager. How love never ends nicely. It either keeps on going forever or it becomes a train wreck. I don’t want the train wreck but I just don’t think I have it in me to do the necessary repairs to prevent the train wreck. I wish I could be Belinda and go on standing there in the sand forever. But I really hate the cold and I have no patience at all.

It’s funny that all these things are happening right before my big trip to Paris. My pie in the sky. I feel so strange being so happy and so sad at the same time. I can’t figure out if I’m maturing or regressing.