asher553: (Default)
I sign the lease Monday. Studio unit at the Admiral. I'm hoping to be able to start sleeping there right away - I'll move a few necessaries in, and start getting cozy. I'll still have five weeks before the lease at my old place (I'm calling it Shadowdale here) expires. That'll give me time to triage my belongings into what I want to move to the Admiral, what I want to put in storage, and what I need to get rid of.

At this stage in life, I am really understanding the meaning of the expression "You don't own your stuff, your stuff owns you."


2013-10-05 23:20
asher553: (queen)
does have its upside. I like being able to remember the moon landings!

In all seriousness, what I like best is the familiarity with myself. Knowing my body, its capabilities and its limitations. Knowing my mind and my temperament, how hard I can push myself out of my comfort zone and when I need to back off.

As a young kid I used to cop an attitude that "I don't care what anybody thinks of me!" Ha. Now I know what it's like to REALLY not care what anybody thinks, and it is grand.

Keeping my cool when I need to is way easier than it used to be. As a young person I used to struggle with anger a lot. And depression is another thing that just doesn't seem to trouble me anymore. Even into my 40s I would get into really bleak moods and have self-destructive thoughts. Now? Sometimes I get lonely, or I'm dissatisfied about one thing or another, but that kind of depression just doesn't happen anymore. I don't know if it's age (and, hopefully, maturity) alone that's done the trick, or if having Bunny in my life made the difference, but it's apparently a permanent change for the better.

I think about mortality plenty, but not in the mystified way I did when I was younger. It was something largely unreal then, and far-off - exotic and monstrous, yet abstract. Now? I'm thinking in concrete, pragmatic terms about it, and getting on with life. I've got a will made out, I've worked out a calendar for my expected age at various points in the future, and I'm going to be looking into buying a plot before too long. And other than that, I'm planning out the years I figure I've got left and gonna try to make the most of them.
asher553: (asher63)
[Reposted from The Question Club.]
I've heard older people who are single say, "I'm too set in my ways to move in with somebody now," and I think there may be something to that. After living alone for a long time you adapt to a certain way of doing things, and it's hard to imagine getting used to sharing your space with somebody else.

Living alone is not necessarily the same as being alone. You can have friends, a social life, and a dating life without having a second person sharing your living space. Some people are just happier that way.

I'm 50 and I find I'm generally happier living alone. Maybe it's just a function of the bad relationships I've been in, but at this point I can't really see myself moving in with another person. And I'm happier this way, probably 80 or 90 percent of the time anyway. I like having the place to myself and I like being my own boss.

The downside is that there's times when I could use a little conversation, or just a second pair of hands to help with the grocery shopping and housecleaning. If you get sick, living alone just sucks. And I think, what if I got hurt? What if I fell down in the shower and hit my head or something? What if, what if? That's the part of living alone that scares me.


2012-12-24 17:24
asher553: (asher63)
It's past solstice, the days are getting longer, and I feel like I've turned a corner this past year. My mind turns constantly toward thoughts of the future - particularly my planned move back to Oregon (at long last!) but also my future more generally. Where will I be? What will I be doing? Who will be a part of my life?

Right now I'm sitting on the overstuffed leather couch in my living room. It was a housewarming gift from my good friend B when I first moved into this apartment in September of 2010. It's also my bed. Bunny has the bed in the bedroom, and (mostly) the room itself; she's with me about half the week, and spends the rest of her time with her mom a few blocks away.

Against the opposite wall sits my Oxford English Dictionary across the tops of two small bookcases (the volumes are too tall to fit on the lower shelves), and on the other side of the TV are my Encyclopaedia Britannica and the rest of my books. The Britannica is the 1973 edition, which my family proudly purchased new when I was in grade school. I still use it - and the much newer OED - regularly.

The vintage clock I inherited from my parents still sits atop my tall bookcase. It's silent now just because I needed a break from the ticking and the chimes - I'm very fond of the clock but it is quite loud, and silence is a rare and precious commodity for me. Plus, I sleep in the same room with it, and I need my sleep.

The smells from my kitchen are frozen enchiladas, canned tuna, pasta, and burner spill, but mostly burner spill. At least the place is somewhat clean - last week I broke down and shelled out for a housecleaning service. It was well worth it - unless you're an especially zealous housekeeper, there's always going to be that stain you keep overlooking. And after it's been there long enough, you don't see it anymore.

TNG just stopped by to collect his allowance and say hi. I'm taking him to see 'The Hobbit' tomorrow. He's now 17 years old - how did that happen? - and while I haven't seen as much of him as I would have liked, I'm pleased with the young man that he is becoming.

In just over a month, I'll be turning 50. It's now The Twenty-First Century; it is The Future. I am reminded of that magnificent passage from 'Doorways in the Sand' by Roger Zelazny:
"Back where I left them so many years ago," he went on. "I've a very peculiar feeling now-the thing I set out to analyze tonight. Did you ever look back at some moment in your past and have it suddenly grow so vivid that all the intervening years seemed brief, dreamlike, impersonal-the motions of a May afternoon surrendered to routine?"

"No," I said.

"One day, when you do, remember-the cognac," he said, and he took another sip and passed me the bottle. I had some more and returned it to him.

"They did actually creep, though, those thousands of days. Petty pace, and all that," he continued. "I know this intellectually, though something else is currently denying it. I am aware of it particularly, because I am especially conscious of the difference between that earlier time and this present. It was a cumulative thing, the change. Space travel, cities under the sea, the advances in medicine-even our first contact with the aliens-all of these things occurred at different times and everything else seemed unchanged when they did. Petty pace. Life pretty much the same but for this one new thing. Then another, at another time. Then another. No massive revolution. An incremental process is what it was. Then suddenly a man is ready to retire, and this gives rise to reflection. He looks back, back to Cambridge, where a young man is climbing a building. He sees those stars. He feels the texture of that roof. Everything that follows is a blur, a kaleidoscopic monochrome. He is here and he is there. Everything else is unreal. But they are two different worlds, Fred-two completely different worlds-and he didn't really see it happen, never actually caught either one in the act of going or coming. And that is the feeling that accompanies me tonight."

"Is it a good feeling or a bad one?" I said.

"I don't really know. I haven't worked up an emotion to go with it yet."

And that's the kind of mood I'm in tonight.

For those who are celebrating, merry Christmas. For the rest, happy Chinese food day.
asher553: (asher63)
Actually, I am not disappointed in anybody this past year. (Not even myself, inexplicably.)

It has been a good year, and one of looking forward and building for the future. I'm writing this as an open post, so details of those near and/or dear will be sketchy, but suffice it to say that I feel like my life is moving in a positive direction.

It'd better be, because I hit the half-century mark in just over a month.

I haven't done anything, AT ALL, to mark my last few birthdays, but I am going to change that this year. Would like to invite a few people over - just those I'm closest to, and that's a small, select group - for a low-key evening. I feel like that would be a good stepping-stone for moving forward on the next phase.

Anyway, happy Festivus.
asher553: (Default)

'The last thing an enemy would want to see is a couple million pissed off old farts with attitudes and automatic weapons, who know that their best years are already behind them. ...'

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