Wait Until You're my Age

Thanks for all the great comments to my last post. I really thought most people would think my idea for a biggest liar show was too weird, especially given that I didn't do a very good job of explaining th idea. And no, I have no real plans to pursue the idea. was simply spouting off. for one I'd have no clue how to go about such a thing and for another all my free time is geared towards developing a writing career.

Matter of fact, as I write this post I am sitting in a coffee shop waiting on two fellow writers to show up so we can pick apart each others work and talk about the craft of fiction. I will be reading the first bit of Plundered Booty for them and I am eager to get their thoughts. I think this a project that people will either love and buy into or absolutely hate. Lets hope I can find an agent and eventually an editor that falls into the former.

And yes, for those who asked, that Elvis line in my last post came right out of my thick noggin and I actually used a very similar line in my second novel.

Here's a random thought I had this week.

Wait until you're my age.

There are no crueler words in the English language than those. Here's why ...

First off, you never believe them at teh time they are spoken. you're young dumb and absolutely certain you'll never fall into the trap of using your age as an excuse. Twenty, thirty, or forty. you'll still be able to stay out all night drinking Jagar Meister and still make it to work the next morning. You'll still be able to play tackle football and walk without a limp the day after. You'll still care more about whose going to win next weeks playoff than next weeks presidential primary. Least that is what you tell yourself.

But years later the truth hits you harder than a NFL linebacker.

Then you start to think about all the other times people have told you ...

Wait Until you're my age ...

and you realize ... Damn, They're probably right about everything else as well.

Now you've got a whole new list of stuff to worry about. You kids becoming teenagers and driving, getting up to pee every other hour at night, the possibility of little blue pills somewhere in your future, joint pain, you're wife hitting menopause. aching knees every morning, social security woes, regrets that the nightly news doesn't some on at eight so you can be in bed at night.

I'm thirty five. Not old by any stretch, but old enough to reevaluate things. Old enough to realize you can't fight off old age by plucking the occasional stray gray hair from your goatee. Old enough to know better ... but still young enough to do it anyway.