Well, Lord of the Rings Day successfully came and went. The ring was safely deposited in Mount Doom, and we feasted like hobbits all Labor Day. Why Labor Day, you ask? It’s because it’s a lot of work to get the ring to Mordor.
We haven’t yet watched the new Lord of the Rings tv show. I’m kind of hesitant to, just because I love the Lord of the Rings movies so much and they completely wrecked the Hobbit movies, so I’m concerned they may be wrecking it yet again.
Plus, if we’re being completely honest, I haven’t exactly read The Silmarillion yet. I’m gonna get to it. Soon.
I’ve been thinking about this quote from Gulliver’s Travels: “Every man desires to live long, but no man wishes to be old.”
I think it’s true, of course. At least, I don’t know anybody who actually wants to be old. But we all want to live long. And if we all want to live long lives, then shouldn’t it naturally follow that being old should be one of the highest valued traits among society?
Why value youth so much when everyone’s goal is to live a long time?
I mean, obviously, when you’re young, your body tends to be most fit, and there’s definitely value in being able to stand without your back going out. But aside from practicalities like that, I’m surprised old age isn’t more of a status symbol.
It’s really not that easy to live to be a hundred. I assume. I’m not there yet, but fingers crossed.
I suppose back in colonial times, they used to wear the white wigs. Maybe they wanted to look older. Yet today, we’re more likely to dye away gray hairs and cover up wrinkles.
Aging with pride in how well and long you’ve lived seems like the ultimate power move. I suppose I may feel differently once I start looking old. I’ve always been blessed with abnormally young looks. I used to get asked if I wanted the kids menu when I was sixteen. I like to call myself Dorian Gray. Somewhere, there’s probably a painting of me where I look really old.
But I do have two gray hairs now. And I’m letting them stay, because I’ve earned them. I’ve managed to not die for thirty-seven years now. (Shout out to my parents, who contributed greatly to my staying alive during my early years. I couldn’t have done it without you.)
Anyway, that’s probably enough thoughts for today. I do need to finish up editing The Fiercest Chicken if I want to keep some momentum going after finishing off Somewhat Alive on Kindle Vella. At the moment, I have nothing new to post, which is fine, except that I kind of miss it. It’s kind of fun to put your work out there and let the world read it. Or ignore it. Both are good.
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