Getting Through my Funk

Of course, I have felt sad before. But, this time I'm not talking about the heart broken or grieving kind of sad; I mean more of the "why?" kind of sad where you don't quite feel pity for others or yourself but you do sense a general disappointment with human kind and the state of the world. Although, again, this disappointment isn't the despairing kind like when pedophiles get out of jail or you watch too much true crime programming on A&E, but more of that upset that leaves you not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Let's review a few examples: I felt this kind of sad when I learned that a woman in Alabama had taken up a wandering, elderly stranger on his offer of a free home mammogram with no reservations or "red flags" going up. (It was her neighbor who suspected something was amiss and called the police, not her.) I sense it whenever I realize that "The Girls Gone Wild" guy will receive a check next week that amounts to far more money than I can ever hope to make in my lifetime. Having to sell fake hair at a mall kiosk, Donny Osmond's success, and the sign I saw at UAB advertising a "yart sale" cause this sensation as well. And, I've felt old before. There was the day one of my 7th grade students asked if I was the mother of another 7th grader. (I was 23.) There was the time I mentioned to the college freshmen I taught that I couldn't believe they actually made a sequel to that stellar Jennifer Lopez vehicle "Anaconda," and they stared at me blankly because they had no idea "Anacondas" could have a predecessor. There was even the time I asked a bartender if she wanted to see my id, and she said, "No, I can see your face." And, none of this touches on the fact that I regularly visit yarn stores, usually can't stay out for both nights of a bachelorette weekend, and have to order decaf coffee past 4 in the afternoon because otherwise "I'll be up all night." So, the other night when I couldn't sleep (probably because someone slipped me some caffeine when I specifically requested otherwise...), I watched "The Girls Next Door" about Hugh Hefner's 3 girlfriends. It was quite entertaining, especially when Holly, the main girlfriend, complained that she didn't like "Casablanca" as a love story because Ingrid Bergman's character "couldn't make up her mind." Oh, Holly... Well, in light of that comment and other zaniness, I did some internet searching the next day to learn more about the show and "the girls." And, that's when I started to feel both old and sad at the same time. You see, I am older than 2 of Hugh Hefner's girlfriends. Yes, not 1, but 2. In fact, Kendra, the self-proclaimed "most ghetto" of the 3 (she gets her grill next week, don't miss it!), was actually born in 1985. 1985...Old and sad are definitely appropriate tags for my emotions. Of course, this is only a bit of what women have felt for centuries about aging and the double standard of male/female dynamics, but I will tell you that I might be changing my tune about botox in the very near future - especially if Jamie Lynn Spears shows up in an MTV video anytime soon.