I haven’t grown a day older in the past ten years and I mean that half seriously.
Once upon a time this puppy was a younger puppy. Then, like now, I wasn’t into “popular” books or movies and I was anything but an athlete. But I looked young and probably acted justifiably immature on occasion which was a lot of fun. There was only one downside: I was a whole lot more grown-up on the inside than I was on the outside and people would want the person they saw on the outside.
That’s still true. I’m still as sophisticated as I ever was, and admirably so. However, my physical appearance is starting to match who I am… which is a great development when people generously take the time to notice that I’m not the same person they knew me as fifteen years ago.
You’d be amazed at how many young people live in the past.
And so I am not going to snicker at four-letter words or boobies these days. I’ve seen a lot of them and, while they still have their uses, I prefer to enjoy them a different way now. And that’s because I’ve become more cultured. You can discern my intellectual standing from the folks who regularly read and comment on this blog.
With two exceptions, you people tend to be at least fifteen years older than me.
For that reason, I would like to extend my most heartfelt gratitude for helping me feel less chronologically advanced. No matter how long we’re all together, I’ll always be “the young one.” And your continued presence will lend an air of truth to my claims of preternatural cultivation.
Nevertheless, I still enjoy the occasional youthful endeavor but my method of partaking continues to grow more classic. So as not to offend the ears of the more lengthy in existence among you, I have decided to close this post by demonstrating my youthful-yet-mature excellence by linking to a music video.
(Warning: the lyrics are not suitable for most workplaces.)