Another one on age and Memory

I'm tired of hearing people complain about how young they are in comparison to me. Most of the people I know they take me nothing more than a measuring scale, with me as the disaster threshold. It makes their life easier to live I guess and it makes me wonder if wisdom really does come with age. Off the context Mr. Picasso thought it did… In his later years he wasn't allowed to be alone in an art gallery because he'd been discovered trying to improve one of his masterpieces.

Age used to be important to me. I could hardly wait to be six to go to school, thirteen to be a teenager, eighteen to be legal and twenty to be everything else. Now I'm at a point in my life when I think age is just a number - and like other numbers, I forget them… quiet effortlessly

Pages from my diary often reminds me referring to the girls I dated as “young chick”. Now I'm referring to women under thirty as young chickens too. I don't know when my perspective changed. Maybe it was the same time when girls in their early twenties started calling me sir or better still…uncle.

The longer I live, the shorter my memory gets. I go upstairs and forget why I went. Someone's name is on the tip of my tongue and bloody that's where it stays. There are more post-its in my to do list than there ever were co-operative notices. There was a song I was singing then humming and now I only remember the humming noise not the lyrics.

The older I get, the more I forget - which could be a symptom of SDS - Seventh Day Syndrome. If God hadn't rested on the seventh day, he could have changed a few things. He could have given me a memory without an expiry date. He could have spared me from ADS – Any Day Syndrome

Now I walk errands instead of run them. I don't try to keep up with the latest trends or try to climb the social ladder because I'm rung out. I don't mind standing in line because it gives me time to remember what else I was meant to buy. The only lines I worry about are worry lines and they are everywhere on my face although I don’t have much things to worry; and if I need to lift my spirits, I use bit of codeine.

If not for Poet like Ghalib I guess I would have been not this happy in life he says “Memories of past is like a punishment – Take away my memory”… well Mr. God took mine without much poetry