I am old

My thirtieth birthday came and went without much fanfare, I didn't stress the number too much. I have, for the past few years imagined myself to be "just out of college." I cling to the notion that I am one of those cool moms who can still hang with those much younger than I and know what they talking about. Those gray hairs that keep popping up? Nothing to worry about. Recently though, I have realized that I am quickly becoming my own worst nightmare. I am old. I would much rather go to a quiet club than a loud concert. Crowds annoy me. I have started regaling my younger coworkers with stories that start, "Yeah, back when I started taking picures, we had to ...." Even college kids, the group with which I still associate myself, now seem to be so young I can't relate. For example, yesterday I had an assignment to shoot pictures of some new college roommates who got to know each other on facebook.com before meeting in person. We were talking in their room, which was about the size of my own college dorm room, so I was reminiscing about my freshman year of college and how I met my first roommate. I said, "Yeah, I think I wrote a letter to my future roommate." A letter. Handwritten, not typed. I probably sent her a picture too. Shot on film. As I was saying it, I was thinking to myself, "Why didn't I just send her an email?
I told the girls, " Wow, this makes me sound really old (Oh, but I am, aren't I?), but I never had an email account until I went to college." They just kind of looked at me. Come to think of it, I never even owned my own computer until after I graduated college. It was't until I was asking their ages (both 17) and did some quick math that I realized the ugly truth. Those girls were 5 when I started college 12 years ago. 5? 5? As in starting kindergarten? I might as well whip out my cane and start complaining about my arthritis!
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