Down in the dumps

Oh crap. I'm getting old.

My cynicism has reached new heights. That's what my friends tell me, at least. I dunno what's so cynical about what I say, but I guess it's the snide remarks I make about everything - the kind of cynical humour I have.

Just like those old men who keep on making bad jokes on how crappy society is these days.

Oh well, it's not just me. When I was younger I found the newspaper's music reviews to be a crock of pretentious, stiff-upper-lip fodder. (I still think the same way now actually.) But it seems like my friends are now lapping these bands up like they're the best thing on earth. While I'm still listening to crass chart-music.

The old men say, the music I listen to is crap, only kids who don't know better still enjoy it.

And they talk about careers and money. I dunno. I'm just not ready to even think about the idea. The sad idea that the world revolved around money, and in the end, it's all about yourself.

I'm still uncomfortable living in this every-man-for-himself adult life. But what can I do? I'm ageing.

Oh well, screw it, I'll just continue to pretend that I'm still the same me I was when I was 16. In fact, when the times get tough - i.e. now - I tend to regress into a more immature self. And that's not necessarily bad since this 16 year old version of me still remembers how to be creative! Thus all this revival of blogging (to sharpen my rusty writing skills) and photography.