Does coming of age give us the right to write? I just stumbled upon a fellow blogger who also happens to be a fellow member of the Story Circle Network —it happened on Twitter, I think . . . it was an hour ago so I can’t be totally certain. This whole Social Network scene can be a bit overwhelming to the senses, particularly when I’m helping to assist several other Indie Authors with their social marketing on a daily basis. Fun? YES! ABSOLUTELY! A little crazy? I just have to make sure I am VERY careful to be aware of which which is which!
Sometimes, like right at this moment, I can hear my Kung Fu Master whispering in my ear: “Wax on – Wax off”—wait, no, that’s my ENT doc. My Kung Fu Master (who, btw, lives somewhere between said ears) whispers: “Log in – Log out”—and I am then in charge of remembering whose facebook or twitter or goodreads or pinterest or google+ or youtube or . . . well, you get the idea . . . Where am I? Who am I? Why did I come to this web page?
Oh yeah! I’m me right now and I came here to post my own blog!
For an aging gal, I fare fairly well on the computer. Considering the home computer was invented when I was in my late twenties and the internet, um, later, like somewhere in my thirties (I’m a little fuzzy on my thirties, and it’s truly a miracle I remember anything at all about my twenties at all), I should probably be an old digital pro. Alas, it is a race to try to keep up with all the new, improved, replaced, updated, upgraded, yada-yada-yada.
Instagram? Oh, yeah, my youngest son taught me all about Instagram back when I was 42—it was a boy! A beautiful, brand new, brown-eyed, bouncing baby boy! No? you say? That’s not “Instagram”? The heck it isn’t! It’s happened to me twice now so I ought to know!
What do the Kardashians have that we do not that makes their kind of Instagramming more popular than ours? I’ll tell you—Adobe Photoshop and the notion that photos of airbrushed naked body parts peppering the internet win out over hair-brushed little squeaky babies that we can pick up and cradle in our arms. But they are wrong, and they are learning that there is nothing like the feeling of holding a newborn babe and gazing into their real-life eyes. And, then they take all kinds of pictures of their babies and off they go into the ethers through their Instagram network. It’s a new world.
I wasn’t always able to keep up with all of this techno-mania. I still struggle occasionally. I’m a big girl. I have my big girl panties on. But I know when to call for help. Better than that, I know WHO to call for help – – –
And heaven knows how happy I am that my grandchildren will never have to see Instagram photos of my airbrushed derriere on the internet (at least I don’t think they will). I’m told I look a lot younger than I am. Nice people say this to me and it helps lift my spirits, if not some of the more fleshy parts that might be sagging a tad more than in years past.
Life hasn’t been all that easy so I feel fortunate to still be alive, let alone have most of my parts, sagging or not. I remember the days of youth when springing out of bed into a new day was an adventure, not a two-hour marathon consisting of fourteen different vitamins, a slow-cooked egg, and a piece of gluten-free toast soaked in olive oil, followed by some exercise—gymnastics (making the bed) and weight-lifting (toting laundry baskets). I also enjoy some morning arts and crafts . . . where face-painting is concerned (I don’t have the Kardashians’ makeup artist) my grandson is here to let me know if I’ve done okay or resemble the Joker from the Batman movie when I emerge from my dressing room.
You see, it’s very complex artistry to apply makeup to eyes that cannot see without glasses on them. One must have a psychic sense about them to guess where to place the appropriate utensils. And, since lipstick is always a last minute affair on the run to the car (aerobics) to drive off into the day, I have been grateful for my spotter. BTW, anyone running through ice and snow with a cane in one hand and a purse in the other really needs a spotter for more than lip-smudge. He can honestly say that his Gramma wears combat boots and, recently, I’ve switched to a light beige gloss that blends nicely with my chin and cheekbones when I miss-mess.
Oh, but I ache at this age. This old body has served me well but it needs a lot of TLC. So, though I should be sleeping in later to give it more rest, I actually have to get up earlier to try to pull it all together. That ten-second sprint to the kitchen is now a ten-minute hobble. The upside? Like an old jalopy—once I get it warmed up, it can still putter down the road just fine, well, . . . mostly.
I guess this is what happens to those of us who’ve really lived. We’ve ridden the bull, so to speak, and we’ve been thrown off a few times but we just kept getting back on and going for another bounce because we have LOVED LIFE! Is it any wonder a few aches and pains eventually show up for the after-hours party? Maybe sixty to ninety is the hangover from my twenties to forties. (What happened to my fifties? That’s a book of its own, so no spoiler alerts!)
So I happened upon this gal’s blog today—yes, believe it or not, I still remember where I began—and I was reading her “About” page where I noticed she had posted a quote from our beloved Henry David Thoreau—a quote that sums it up quite succinctly. He said, “How vain is it to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”
And, though anyone can write at any age, I have, indeed, “stood up” (at times when I probably should have sat down) for many long decades, and feel infused by my life’s experiences to write, write, write!
Incidentally, old age does have its perks—after all, we’re still in the ring for another round or so . . .
And this is what happens when my aging friends send me these silly cartoons in emails! LOL!!!
© Jennifer Sweete, March 2017
For more laughs about “maturing into wise old souls” pay a visit to these fun blogging sites:
We may age, but may our sense of humor stay forever young!
Look for my future Jennifer Sweete blog posts right here!
Books I have enjoyed reading this season:
Plato and Aristotle. A fascinating study of two philosophers somewhat at odds . . . but maybe not really as much as it looks on the surface!
Diane Duane writes YA books and my grandson has started me reading her So You Want to Be a Wizard (first in a series). Finished that one and her second in the series called Deep Wizardry. Working on #3 now – High Wizardry. Interesting study on Suspense Writing for YA!
Until we meet again, keep reading, keep writing, keep dreaming!
Jennifer Sweete is the author of Dear Sandy: The letter that wrote itself into a Book (2015) and The Poet & The Widow (2016). She is a Certified Massage Therapist and Usui/Holy Fire Karuna Reiki® Master and teacher, a small business and writer’s consultant, self-mastery coach, musician, poet, and author. And they all fit snugly into the same hat! She’s currently serving her 2nd term as President of the Chaffee County Writers Exchange while assisting other authors through the processes of editing, self-publishing and marketing their books. She resides with her husband, grandson, and furry friend in sunny Colorado. For more info, contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.