Could we just have a slumber party?

I'm rarely the type to want to be young again. Of course, I still pine for my 22 year old ass, but I wouldn't actually want to be 22 again.

Overall, I am happier at 38, knowing what I know and with a pretty good understanding of what I don't know. Back then, I thought I knew everything.

What I do miss though, is the way we could have friendships back then. Now I meet all of these great people and there is never ever enough time to really get to know them. There will be the occasional dinner, a drink or two, but there are kids and jobs. The kids with these baseball games and music lessons, so we can only have one drink, have to be home by eleven, and the jobs we all actually care about. Jobs we all need.

All this life stuff getting in the way, so I only get a small sliver of the amazingness of a person.

What I want is a week in a dorm, all of my favorites friends new and old, lined up on the same hall. Late night talks, sharing a bathroom, staying up too late and then the early risers like me up too soon, drinking coffee, red-eyed and laughing about the same joke from the night before. I want to know people like that again.

Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

Have I ever told you about my secret thing for Eminem?

No?

He's angry and sometimes I'm angry too. What? You know, about the suburbs and the price of organic milk. I'm angry. Anyway, Em and I are close to the same age, he's just a few weeks older than I am. We'll be turning 39 this year.

So I was thinking about his latest album, the themes of recovery, redemption, and reinvention. He seems to be reaching a new level of maturity. And people are buying it. You can still get away with finding yourself at 39. But 45? Who is Eminem at 45? And 50? And who am I?

The thing about approaching 40 is that you aren't there yet. And turning 40? Sort of a milestone, not so horrible. But after, you're older than 40 and that, for me, is the scary part. Still, I'd like to think ol' Marshall Mathers and I have a few more comeback moments left in us. I'd like to think that he can go on making angry albums and that people will buy them. I'd like to think he'll still make sense at 50.

And that somehow, I will too.

Steampunk and staring down the barrel of forty

A few weeks ago, Hubs turned thirty-nine. No biggie, except that means I'm next. And next year he'll turn forty. And then so will I.

Holy Crap.

I don't know where I was poking around, but I came across the term steampunk and had no idea what it was. So, of course, I googled it. And then I still had no idea. So I poked around some more. And now, I think I kind of get it. Kind of.

But alas, I am at the age where I have to look up stuff mentioned on hipster websites. To be entirely fair, I wouldn't say I've ever been cutting edge. But I had heard of stuff. I didn't always know about it, but I knew of it.

Now I know of nothing.

Turns out, steampunk is often associated with cyberpunk, though steampunk tends to be less dystopian. So it is, unlikely, even in my younger days, that I would have known about this. And maybe, I wouldn't have known of it either.

Either way, I am now too old to be sure.