Don't you just...

....feel old some of those days? Not because of some glossy magazine like, some-point-in life crisis or because of any particular traumatic event. What makes me feel old are people who behave as if their life was the belly button of the universe and who cannot let go of their own selfishness . I talk to them, look at them, listen to them and wonder: how, while you are so much older than me, are you so much more immature (?) in so many ways?

But what makes me feel old most of all is when I realise that it is no longer that difficult to keep some feelings and emotions behind velvety curtain of amazingly genuine smile. I watch children play with ponies, their joy, anger and sorrow so powerful, uninhibited, in your face like.

And there is me who can isolate her hauling dogs in a sound-proof room so well you can stay at my house without even knowing the room existed...you won't even know I have any dogs.

The thought of letting them loose, letting them bark and cry out loud crosses my mind for a short moment but I know you might be afraid of dogs. The moment is gone. Without regret. Without pressure. And that's when I feel old.

But then, the truth is: [Anais Nin] We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

Just about the most certain thing I can say about my good old self is that at least I have a job that equals play. And someone once said that we don't stop playing because we grow old; We grow old because we stop playing! (or something in those lines anyway;).

So I will see you all tomorrow ;))