The man comes around

By no means am I old, nor do I feel that way, yet this was one of those days where I felt like an adult. It's not like what I was doing was especially grown up. If anything, going to see Blade Runner: The Final Cut and Rambo when most people were at work is more of an adolescent's pursuit even if it is part of my job.

What's strange about me saying this is that I was one of those kids whom adults regularly proclaimed mature for my age. (I would agree.) I think I was able to take the long view from a relatively early age and was more earnest/serious/introverted than the majority of my peers. That might be a surprise considering that I was consistently among the youngest in my classes in school.

I started working early too. I can't say for sure, but I may have been mowing the church's yard and lots my dad owned when I was in late elementary school. I helped out at the family business, the grain elevator, for a couple hours each day after junior high classes. While my dad was busy doing stuff I couldn't do, I was often the only one there to wait on customers, work the cash register, and carry feed bags to customers' cars.

So why, out of the blue, did I feel like an adult today? Beats me. Maybe it was doing "real" grocery shopping. I confess that I often will go unprepared and get just a couple things, which forces multiple, unproductive trips. Today I scribbled a list on the back of an envelope, got a cart rather than a basket, and bought enough food to keep me stocked for awhile. I might have spent an hour seasoning the beef, chicken, and pork that I put in the freezer. By my count I have fifteen meals ready to be put in the pan or oven at a moment's notice. I almost never do this, but I know I've put a little weight back on due to receding into convenience's bad eating habits.

Before shopping I dropped off some recyclables in the grocery store's bins. I only had a short distance to go and didn't put my seatbelt on. It was the strangest feeling. I've been conscientious about wearing it since what seems like forever. Perhaps this blast from the past jarred loose an old sense memory.

Or maybe it's that I'm here at home writing this blog entry rather than at a concert I was considering attending. The 9:00 p.m. start time and three opening acts unfamiliar to me screamed too much effort for something I wasn't that invested in attending. (I have become more of a homebody. Having a place again where I'm comfortable may be as responsible as anything.) That I would think about going to see Times New Viking makes me "younger" than a lot of people my age but still... (A warning to those going to the band's page: if you're not attuned to lo-fi indie rock, you may feel like the song that automatically starts is an assault on your ears. It sounds loud even with the volume low.)

What a weird coincidence that I finished reading Nick Hornby's Slam on this day. The author is known for writing about men-children, although his latest reverses directions, focusing on a boy forced to grow up before he's ready. The book was a nice change of pace from the heavier reading I'd been doing. It's also a nice response--even though it isn't intended as one--to the film Juno. I liked the Oscar-nominated comedy about teen pregnancy, but it struck me as awfully cutesy too. (The critical and popular love parade for it strengthens my opinion that the film is terribly overrated.) Slam treats the situation in a more realistic manner despite the fact that the main character solicits advice from his Tony Hawk poster.

Anyway, that's what was on my mind today. Time to pick up the needles after a layoff.