the older I get, the less I care

Turns out mornings are my jam. I love mornings. I want to take morning out behind the bleachers and get it pregnant. Afternoon can totally suck it. Nobody likes afternoon. It’s tired in the afternoon. Tired and hot and usually means you’re at work hating life and wishing it were evening. I’m cool with evenings I guess, but those are usually spent on a couch with Don Draper. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just a tired, I’m over it thing.

But mornings. Mornings are where it’s at. It’s the one time of day when I feel gung ho about anything. Should I feel alarmed by that? Maybe. But the only time I feel stoked on the day is mornings. They’re quiet and sunrisey and birds chirpingy–they’re solid.

Turns out I also really love bean burritos. Let’s talk about that for a second. Trader Joe’s refried black beans on a chia seed tortilla with this thick colby jack they have and del taco hot sauce. (I have a hoard from my numerous del taco trips.) GUYS. I live on this, and I love it, and I don’t even care.

I can’t get enough of Jim Croce. But this isn’t even a recent thing–it’s been going on for months. And then, if you choose Jim Croce radio on Spotify or Pandora or whatever newfangled music streaming apparatus of choice, you’ll get hours of pure magic. Simon and Garfunkel (or Stinky and Gunky, as my family called them as kids) James Taylor, Janis Joplin, Harry Nilsson. I literally can’t even.

Sometimes I don’t eat healthy shit because it’s boring. And other times I bring Pokemon stuffed animals to decorate my cubicle. Pikachu and Fennekin, guys. Duh. They’re my jam. I like to wear maharaja jacobeem mugatu pants to work, even when my coworker passively agressively tells me they’re probably not stick-up-a-butt tested, corporate approved.

I do all of these things because I’m finding that the older I get, the less I care. And while there are some things I care more about the older I get (i.e., the fertility of our garden) it’s great to see some of the old cares floating away. I mean, sure, it’s kind of embarrassing when elder coworkers ask about your Pikachu photo covered in Japanese writing, but, I just roll with it. And why can’t I wear maharaja jacobeem mugatu pants to work? They’re like wearing pajamas AND they have large pockets! I’ll take these creature comforts over a pencil skirt and heels any day. Suck on THAT, corporate America!

All I’m trying to say here is that a.) I really love Pokemon and b.) give up on the notion of “guilty pleasures.” I think Neil Diamond’s “Forever in Blue Jeans” is a smash hit, and I tap my toes every time. Your ABBA habits should never be hidden under a bushel, because “Fernando” is a really good jam that lifts the spirits. And anyone who says they don’t like shitty TV is lying. America’s Next Top Model is sometimes riveting, and I’m not ashamed.

So, don’t be ashamed today. Just be an old fart that loves whatever you love. Like this sloth.