Lynn has tagged me for a meme.
Luckily for you, it's a short one; one of the old classics that are still floating about out there.
The meme instructions are:
1. Write your own six word memoir;
2. Post it on your blog; include a visual illustration if you'd like;
3. Link to the person that tagged you in the post, and to the original post if possible;
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links;
6. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!
Now you know me; I love to break chain letters and I never tag, so this is the end of the line for this meme.
And I'm sure "memoir" is the wrong word, but since most memes come from the language-strangling, Bushism-infested Colonies I'll have to endure it.
Hey ho.
Old Dive summed up in six words.
That's never going to happen as I'm so voraciously loquacious; a logorrhœiac of monstrous and tedious pretentiousness. Concision is something that happens to other people.
As I'm such a first class indecisive waverer, I'll have to sum up Old Dive in a shortlist of six episodes of six words each:
- Why does my head always hurt?
- Life is hateful; roll on death.
- If you exist, God, SMITE me!
- I want it all to stop.
- Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy.
- Filling in time, waiting for death.
I suppose the last one would be the one I'd choose at a pinch. That's what I'm doing. Simply spending the rest of my days searching for pleasantly futile things to do until the sudden confused "Oh, shit" as my heart pops.
You can tell I'm enjoying life at the moment, can't you?
Mostly because Old Dive is back to being single again, singing Smiths' songs and wearing black, but also because some fucking kid offered me his seat on the tube last night.
I knew it would have to happen some day, but it was still a shock.
I just glared at him for a few seconds and said,
"Fuck; do I really look that old and infirm?"
He tried to back off and say "No, no. I just thought you might want to sit down."
But the damage was done.
Actually we had a bit of a laugh about it but I now know that I've entered the next awful stage of my life.
It was as horrifying and ego-shattering as - back in my teens - the first time one of the local kids called me "mister" instead of "Dive" and I realised I would have to go out and face the world at some point as a "grown-up".
Now I have to face it as an old bastard.
All I can say is "Look out, world; you're gonna regret this."
23 comments:
Well I couldn't be tagged since I don't have a blog but if it were me and I had to choose from your 6; I think I would choose the last one too. The others don't seem to fit.
I think it's sweet that the young lad offered you his seat. I hope you sat down!!
In our family we have a theory that when the police start looking young, you know you are old. I prefer to think that I am aging gracefully when I see the babes I used to hold, grow up. Strange but I still feel young on the inside. Do you?
I most certainly did not sit down! Hee hee.
And yes, Mme; I feel about twenty-eight most of the time, even though the police around here look like schoolchildren.
Aww, it's a shame you couldn't have worked that last line into six words. It's perfect.
And Mme Benaut, you need a blog!
If someone offered me a seat on public transport I'd accept it, mainly because I'm as lazy as sin. To teenagers, anyone over the age of twenty two is classed as a pensioner, so I wouldn't worry about it if I was you.
Sorry about the back to being single thing ...
Thank you, Robyn.
Hey, I thought of another one:
"Fat, ugly, balding, middle aged man".
Cool!
I agree; Mme needs to start her own blog.
Cheers, Betty. I was just hoping I could make fifty before the seat-offering thing happened. Oh, well.
I have my own blog now: MmeBenautOccasionalBlog. I would be honoured if you can come and visit me and leave me my first message. Hee hee.
make music this weekend, sugar! let it surround you and bring you joy and feel your soul/mind/spirit. xox
(i shall wear black today in your honour) ;-)
Woohoo! At last, Mme! I'm coming right over.
Savannah: Thank you so much. I'm feeling a lot better right now and will be making another music post tomorrow to cheer myself up some more.
I wear black because it goes with everything … even "old".
Hee hee
XOX
You're single??
Dammit Dive, I have six words for you... Will you be my trophy bride?
Hee hee, Vic. I'd be honoured!
Ah...you have hit what my bff, Harriet and I call "the ma'am wall."
That lovely first time when a salesclerk or anyone says, "May I help you, ma'am?"
I have hit the ma'am wall about 233 times.
You'll get used to it and (shuddering) learn to use it as a tool....
Fuck getting old.
Youth is wasted on the young. Thats why they get acne.
And I'm back.
That'll teach me to read the comments before I post won't it.
So you and my girlfriend are getting married huh?
Send your brother over and we'll make it a double.:)
Spoilsport!
I have to admit i sniggered at the lad offering you his seat he he. You have to see though how wonderful that was. Not the normal grunting, violent type was he? Kind, considerate and polite. Well i, for one, am proud of him. I hope you were thankful to him you old Grouch. he he i'm still giggling.
I know i don't look good on a certain day, like yesterday, some father said to his child "Mind out of the way, the lady wants to come through." Again, very polite but all i could think is yes be careful of the old lady approaching.... :(
Maria: Thank you for that, Ma'am …
OW!!!!!
Kate: Yup. It appears that I'm going to be a trophy bride for The Groover!
Cool!
I can't wait to start trying on big dresses!
And you're welcome to Phil, though he's got a bad cold at the moment so best give it a few days.
Lynn: He was a grotty little thug in a hoody with a woolly hat on under it.
I can't really picture you as an old lady. Do you mutter to yourself and buy hundreds of tins of cat food?
I think the title of the post is a pretty good six indeed. Well, for some reason I never imagined I'd live past forty and since I'm a few months from 39, things are looking UP for me.
I'm thinking of even setting a new goal of 50 (as the same goes for you as well aside from an occasional seat offering from what was no doubt an undercover cop-baby :).
I DO love how 60 is the new 50 and so on down the line. Except somehow acne got confused along the way and thinks it's the new late thirties.
Well, I think I'm starting to confuse myself now so off I go to tend to the 5 younglings keeping me from any of my usual slackery.
Meanwhile, my vote is with Savannah. Ditto that! :D
I have empathy, as I will illustrate with a little story. (Or perhaps I should call this a vignette, not wanting to torture that Queen's own language more than the average colonial.) Once, I went up to the Uiverstiy to address a very large lecture hall full of under-graduates. The previous lecture was just winding up, so I was milling around in the corridor. A young man came up, passing out fliers. He was looking for University students to take part in a study. He was offering the fliers, asking, "Student? Student?" When he came up to me, he said, "Obviously NOT a student." What's that supposed to mean?" "Oh. Well. I suppose you COULD be a student. I mean, we do have a number of non-traditional-" "-And what's THAT supposed to mean?"
Ungrateful sod!
The poor kid offers you his seat and say that to him?
Some people can't be pleased! lol
what about "miserable lonely old sod in black"
ok...I should not have said that...sorry...
What about something like "smart, funny and hard to please?"
lol well i'm glad to hear you can't imagine that. No i don't do that - yet. Actually the cat thing will never happen! I might just carry my knitting around, walking along the street or tell young people to have more manners.
Shan: Apparently, fifty is the new twenty-eight. Except that when I was twenty-eight I didn't have man-boobs, a shiny baldy head, a saggy face and the elephant man's body.
Still; I'm only forty-nine … Perhaps next year I'll start to look young again.
Kate: Take advantage of it.
I LOVE being a forty-nine year old student. I have my National Union of Students card that gives me discount off all sorts of things and I get to hang around with pretty young girls. Plus everybody thinks I'm a lecturer and gives me respect.
Hee hee, Rose: The little shit is lucky I didn't kick his patronising arse the length of the carriage.
Of COURSE I'm ungrateful! I've spent decades perfecting my curmudgeonliness; I can't spoil it all because one kid feels guilty about hogging a seat.
Vic: I am dancing round the room going "tra-la-la" at the thought of wearing a meringue confection to our wedding.
Lynn: When you get old, people start forgiving you for unforgivable behaviour. Embrace it! Kick small children. Shoplift. Wee on buses. Abuse your position for all it's worth!
Hmm. Never in a million years shall i, Dive.
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