a pocketful of mumbles

    So I was thinking.
    (And I'm starting to think that maybe in an alternate universe this blog would be titled, So I was thinking....)
    I'm on Facebook now. It's a HUGE time-waster, but it's kind of fun and it has been amazingly useful in serving as a forum for reconnection with various points in my past. I'm on vacation as of tomorrow at 5:pm; I leave on Saturday morning (weather and car permitting) for attempt #2 at Christmas in the home state. While I'm there, I will be seeing something like 12 people with whom I've become reacquainted on Facebook since I joined in early December. That's nuts, considering what a socially-avoiding hermit I can be. I'm taking a day with my oldest friend, Jennifer, with whom I was in kindergarten. We're going to cruise around the city where she lives, looking for cool places to shop (and pretty much just telling stories and making each other laugh) for a few hours. I'm watching football with my third cousin (? I don't know exactly what she is - my dad's brother married her dad's sister) who is also a junior high/high school classmate, and a couple of younger "boys" that I've also known forever. One of those boys is the eldest of the three children with whom I lived when I was in college, along with their parents of course. He is turning (gasp) 29 on Saturday. We've planned a lovely and hilarious prank surprise for his mother and siblings. He's told them that he met a woman on the Internet; he's going to invite them to dinner (or something - he's a slacker so the plans aren't set yet) so we can all get to know each other. Won't they be surprised when they arrive to find him with me. I'm laughing just thinking about it.
    Digression!
    The Facebook experience leaves me ruminating on the concept of age. I am nearly 40. When I was 10, "40" seemed pretty close to "dead." When I was 20, "40" looked a lot like "over the hill." At "30," it was "dried up and terrifying." Now, at 38, what am I? What is my age?
    I know one thing: when I see photos of myself from law school, I realize that I am younger than I was then. Ditto pictures from the past several years of marriage. And even the first maybe year or so after the divorce, when I was as skinny as I'm likely to ever be but also near to frantic all the time because of the relationship shit that I was in. (There's no relaxing when the person you're in love with has no business being in a relationship.) I didn't start to approach peaceful until after I went to Norman.
    These lyrics from The Boxer by Simon & Garfunkel come to mind:

I am older than I once was,
and younger than I'll be -
that's not unusual

No, it isn't strange,
after changes upon changes,
we are more or less the same

After changes
we are more or less the same
    I think, right now, that I am younger than I once was. Younger, too, than I'll be (that's not unusual). After changes, am I more or less the same? I don't know. I'm still me - as was pointed out yesterday afternoon with relief and maybe glee by that distant cousin on my FB wall - but maybe better, too, than before. And maybe younger than I'd ever thought.