70/40

I'm saying it again: I think I'm getting old.

And it's weird.

I'm used to having a passion for opinion. Strong opinion. Opinion that makes my hands shake and my face turn red. Opinion that drives me to write blog posts. Blog posts I later revise so that they are somewhat fit for human consumption.

Not this sudden penchant for not caring.

Or for thinking things are pointless beyond the need to even waste my time forming an opinion.

That's all new for me.

And I don't know what to do with it.

It's not all bad. In fact, I've been waiting patiently for my turn to finally grow up.

(which is what I really hope this is all indicative of, and not some strange mental illness that slowly takes my mind, one opinion at a time...)

It's just foreign. It makes me question myself.

For instance, take the hipster movement:

Meh.

That's it.

I can't even get worked up over how ridiculously desperate, tired, and high school-esque the whole thing is. Hard as I try!

I can muster a half-hearted, single eye roll, but that's it.

Mostly I just look at the ironic-so-long-it's-no-longer-ironic and over-sized, non-prescription glasses and feel, at worst, apathetic; at best, second-hand embarrassed.

A slightly annoyed Meh.

While I look forward to a very indifferent future filled with bouts of blood pressure so low doctors won't know whether to categorize me with the living or the dead, I worry about the toll this might take on my writing career.

And then I remember that it's not a career. It's a blog. And a rather small-scale one at that.

And I think,

Meh.