Fresh Young Sexy = Kill 'Em All!

I'm not even 30 yet and I already feel so ancient sometimes! I will admit - at the risk of sounding like a loser, that I often feel threatened by young people, fresh blood with their unbeatable talents. But if you're anything like me, you will also find these brilliant, young, college graduate-types who seem to naturally excel in everything a little annoying too!

Unbeatable in looks and other physical attributes, including 'height', and general 'coolness'. Their grey matters are just bubbling over, while mine seems to be already starting to fizzle out. They are filled with a passionate yearning to learn. I'm sick of it.

They pepper their sentences with words like 'Incessant', 'Esoteric', 'Throbbing' (and not even mean anything remotely sexual by it!), and 'Asinine' (often in reference to me, I fear.)

They write about pain and loss - the kind that would put all the hurt I've known in my entire lifetime to shame. They write about the loves they've had, and my grandest dream of love cannot live up to their smallest reality love affair.

They usually have been in relationships that have lasted longer than their time on earth. Their hair's always neat and tidy and shines - even after a major roller coaster ride. Always sophisticatedly fashionable, always manage to look like they're either trendily a few years early or late in style.

They drink Martinis and cranberry juice and Vodka. They can wear 3 bulky sweaters and a heavy coat over it and still manage to look thin. They can even wear pretty padded bras and still don't look like they're carrying the world on their shoulders - chests, I mean. They mostly speak at least 5 different languages fluently.

Me - quickie relationships; wild, unruly, orphan-type hair; predictable with fashion; mundanely always manages to shuffle along with the rest of the masses - the less fashionable mass that is; drink masala chai when other people on my table are drinking earl greys and jasmine tea; beer when they're sipping their Chardonnays and Sherries and Chiantis.

I can inarticulately make-do with 3 or 4 languages/dialects (have never really been able to tell apart these two). 3 or 4 depending on who wants to know. 3 if it's someone who I know or who I think might speak French. 4 if it's someone I'm sure don't speak French. :)

**sigh**

Seen the Mighty Ducks 'Miracle' movie? If yes, you know how loveable the Mighty Ducks were in the movie. Made by Americans, all good things must come to no end for the American team, while the poor Russians could only haply play their dark roles and earn some money to pay for their vodkas.

So the result of the Americans making the movie is this: rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed young American boys coached by a blue-eyed, dimple-cheeked coach. The opponents are the Russians - rough, violent, and consistently displaying extremely bad sportsmanship. They also got Dracula's long lost brother to play their coach.

All this combined with the fact that the Russians are playing on the enemy's home turf results in this - the odds of them being the hot, or even minor favorites, are zero to none. The movie was made in such a way that you sit there and watch and think how absurd it is, and you start to feel a little sorry for the reds, but you still can't help but adore the Americans and cheer when they won.

I reckon I'm pretty much in a similar boat as the Russians in that movie. Odds stacked all against me. Born out of sync with my sophisticated world. I can't compete with the sexy fresh talent. Maybe I should move to Russia....

I'm leaving for a one week trip to the Great Barrier Reef tonight. Not exactly Russia, but it'll have to do for now.

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