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Sunday, January 16, 2011

I'm 33, as of last November.  Not old, by most measures, but not exactly hitting puberty, either.  The weird thing about getting older is watching your tastes change right in front of you.  Like music, for example.  As a young little shit, I never really liked Nirvana, but lately I have been digging on them.  Beck is another one.  Recently he has been showing up on my Pandora station and I haven't been "disliking" it as I normally would.  It is kind of neat to have new music to listen to, but it bothers me to think that my really cool and hip music tastes are becoming like yours.

Clothing is another.  I've pretty much been wearing black Dickies pants for about three years now, along with beer shirts, band shirts, and beer-related hoodies.  Yesterday I stepped up and bought a jacket.  Like, a real one.  Then I realized that I loved it and everything else in the Ben Sherman shop I was in.  Yes, I have begun to like ... designer clothes!  I'm a bit afraid of what's next for me - going to bed early?  Buying art?  Having dinner parties?

Growing up is weird.  

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