Friday, August 17, 2012

Old lady woman-child

Spending time with my grandma has been, as I mentioned yesterday, a terrific distraction. Whether I'm pissed off or sad for any reason, she's there to break the fall and sometimes force me to think about things I happily avoid considering on a day to day basis.

Along with her lessons in cooking and her frequent shopping excursions during which we discuss how clothing is made and/or why it is important to stock up on nice jewelry, she very often enjoys telling me what an old person I am.

"It's like I'm the 19 year old and you're 82," she tells me. Sometimes more than once a day.

Others might take this as an insult of sorts. As if being old indicates boredom and laziness. That might even be what she intends to convey when she tells me this over and over while we're spending time together.

But that's absolutely the opposite of how I take it.

Rather than the intended purpose of the phrase - which might be to say that I'm slightly less spritely at times than would be expected of someone in their late teens (she invited me to go back to bed after waking me up at 8:30 AM for breakfast the other day, and when I slept in until 1:30 PM she was astounded by my ability to nap whenever - though in my opinion this is a trait of both seniors and teenagers) - I took this to mean I was an old soul. That's the meaning I want out of it anyway, because it's what I most clearly identify with.

I don't think my grandma quite understands how I differ from the generic almost 20-year-old, maybe that's why she complains.

If I was, in fact, the 19 year old to her 82 year old, we would never spend time together. She would not have the opportunity to teach me things like knitting and cooking and I, in turn, wouldn't be interested in showing her how to use a computer or restock her printer ink. These are just not things that ordinary child-grandparent relationships contain, mostly because individuals of my equivalent age could care less about their convalescing relatives.

Occasionally it frustrates me, to think that she'll dish out these jokes at my expense. But then I remember how lucky I am to be the person I am - to be slightly different with the only downside of being referred to by my own grandmother as an 82 year old at heart.

Even right now I'm contemplating my own senility. On an evening like this, I argue in my mind about whether it is more comfortable to lie on my stomach or on my back while I type out my blog entries. These are the kinds of internal discussions that do not require much consideration, but if you're an old lady like I am then your aches and pains come into play enough that it makes quite a difference.

When I've picked a seating/lying down arrangement, then I think about what it is I'm going to do after I've finished writing. Maybe watch a movie. What should I watch? Pride and Prejudice. Admittedly, this is a common teenage girl choice. But by the fact that I love Jane Austen and can't seem to get over my connection to her very antiquated history and discussions of romance, I consider her a reflection of my old lady ways.

In addition, considering where I am in general is pretty telling as to what my life has become. In less than 20 years, I've already grounded myself to my room rather than planning exotic nights out on the town with friends. Granted, I have the kind of friends with whom the most exotic nights out include going to the local movie theater or maybe going to the beach and having a bonfire (like last week) if we're feeling particularly crazy. But even so, I'm sure if I wanted to I could find friends who want to go clubbing or are interested in underage drinking and pot-smoke-doing (that's the correct phrasing, right? I don't smoke in any capacity, so I'm not hip on the lingo that you youngins are using these days).

Essentially, I'm an old lady.

Besides the aching back (yes, I have an aching back) and the occasional desire to watch re-runs of television shows from the 1960's (TV Land is one of my favorite television stations), maybe I have some youth in me.. just maybe. Like watching cartoons and going to Disneyland.

Okay, so I'm an old lady and a creepy woman-child.

If that means my grandma gets to make fun of me, calling me 82 years old, then so be it.

Lord knows I'm happy the way I am. Maybe even to a fault. And that's the point of living, right? I can pretty much guarantee that when I reach the age of 82 things won't have changed much...and I guess that means I'm a pretty happy and content person. That's all I want, thank you very much.

No comments:

Post a Comment