Several weeks ago, an individual asked me to name some random thing I'd done in the last three years.
I came up empty.
I think his measure is a little tilted against me; his idea of random is taking off to Las Vegas at 6 p.m. on Friday when you just thought of the idea at 5:22 p.m. on Friday or going camping with no planning done whatsoever. Thus, under his definition, the fact that I was going skydiving in five days didn't count because I'd planned too far ahead.
But the lesson that I walked away with was that I should think less about stuff and just do it. My problem is, I look at something I want to do. I then think I'm too old. I won't be good at it and I'll be embarrassed. I might not like it. It's too expensive. I don't have time.
Two weeks ago, at a rock concert featuring 12-year-old white kids rapping and 14-year-olds reminiscing about the '80s, I told my friend that when I was in junior high I really wanted to learn how to play the drums, but it never worked out. (Side note: I was in junior high before these kids were born.) She told me I should do it now. I smiled, probably a little condescendingly, and went back to the show.
But the words stuck. Why couldn't I take drum lessons? I'm never going to be any less old than I am now. What if I do hate it? Then I stop and find something else. Yes, it is expensive. This is why I work. So I have money to spend on things I want to do.
Yesterday I had my first drum lesson. There's a concert scheduled next month.
This week I'm applying for a fellowship in Germany.
A couple of weeks ago I introduced myself to someone I found attractive.
I'm realizing I'm far too young to act old.