I got an email inviting me to a “Party for Hope-Free and Fun World AIDS Day Event!” from Planned Parenthood. I thought this was odd, but then, I guess AIDS is all about having fun then being hope-free. I did think they had been making progress with those miracle drugs, though….
I wrote about this last year, too, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to be my parent’s age, to come of age when sex didn’t, couldn’t, kill you. And I worry about the freshmen now, too; what would it be like to come of age under a Bush-funded health program? That sounds even worse.
I was in class today, teaching, and they all struck me as being so impossibly young. The professor I am co-teaching with has been doing this for thirty years and is used to the shock and bemusement, but it’s new to me. Strange to realize that I’m a decade older and how much that means; strange that I am closer to being in touch with all the rest of the faculty than with them. To most of the faculty, of course, I am still ridiculously young; if I had gone on for my PhD, I wouldn’t even be done with it yet.
But that doesn’t help me feel younger; my birthday’s in a month and a half, and it’s depressing me already. In some cultures, at this age unmarried, I would be an unsalvageable old hag, a spinster in politer company.
At least I’m an old hag who can afford her own apartment, who can do roughly what she wants, and who is guiltily looking forward to the next episode of Gossip Girl in thirty minutes. Huzzah!