Not Quite 42

This was me in the summer of 1989, when I was working in my first job as a supplies clerk at a local Dallas hospital:


And this is me about ten minutes ago, after a long day of on-campus meetings and persuading the kiddo to go to sleep at a less-insane bedtime:


Except for the egregious mullet (I was growing it out, really I was) and dubious fashion-sense when I was seventeen years old (what on Earth was I thinking?), I find myself returning to familiar habits and interests when I was a teen.

In the summer of 1989, I was working at a place that helped people and put up with my quirky sensibilities. I didn’t have a boyfriend (actually, I never had one up to that point), instead being active as a bona fide scholastic geek with my geek friends at school — that is, when my parents didn’t plan family activities like going to or hosting Filipino parties.

I wrote a lot of bad bad bad unfinished fiction and should’ve-stayed-unfinished poetry. And — thanks to imported British programming on the local PBS television station — I was an absolutely obsessed Anglophile, having devoured (metaphorically) Jeremy Brett’s Sherlock Holmes, the 4th through 7th Doctor Who, Monty Python’s Flying Circus, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (I’m wearing a “Don’t Panic” button in my mullet-y photo and I still have that button), and pretty much whatever the folks at KERA would throw at me.

Now I find myself — in the early days of 2014, a few months away from my 42nd birthday — working at a place that helps people and puts up with my quirky sensibilities (I really AM a nutty professor). I’m also a single mom with absolutely no — no, none, nein, nyet, NADA — desire to date anytime soon, instead focusing my energy to raising my kid and being there for my parents and siblings.

I write hopefully-above-average fiction, poetry, and non-fiction (like this blog).  And — thanks to discovering the awesomeness that is the revitalized Doctor Who (good god, David Tennant, can you be any skinnier? and, Matt Smith, I am fascinated with your odd eyebrows) and Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock, that teen Anglophile in me is still so much there that I think I may just go ga-ga over seeing the Cliffs of Dover like I did back in November of 1993, sleep-deprived on a Belgium ferry at 4 o’clock in the morning.

I guess what I’m saying is that I feel young inside, in spite of this middle-aged body.

Is that the Ultimate Answer to the Ultimate Question?


But it’s a pretty good feeling, indeed.


About lizardqueen

If single-mothering were a paid job, I'd be rich. However, it doesn't, so I write (which doesn't pay the bills) and teach (which does). I'm overly-educated in the liberal arts, but that doesn't hinder my ability to be pragmatic and realistic. YAY.
This entry was posted in EDUCATION, Learning, Pop Culture, QUIRKS, The Writing Life, Travels and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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