Old is the new fresh...

I am feeling my age. First, I had a mental breakdown during my math final. Most of what I thought I knew, suddenly I didn't. So, to forget how ashamed I was of myself (I should have studied, didn't, just couldn't face it anymore), I went to the movies, where I saw the new National Treasure, because I knew it would be inaninity squared, and I didn't want anything that made me think too much. It sufficed quite adequately. When I got up to leave, I think I creaked. Two hours and I was in total body lock. Sigh. So I guess old has arrived, and I need a new word to describe the reality of my existence. "Young" doesn't cut it anymore. So I decided on "fresh", as opposed to "stale", which is what happened to my mother. She is the personification of one of my favorite bumper-sticker wisdoms - if you can't be a good example, you'll have to be a horrible warning. There is nothing that can excite her, she has done and seen everything, ho-hum. Whereas I go out the front door and get all excited because the camelias are blooming, again. I am blown away by a blue bowl of tangerines, which I hope to paint a portrait of today. I love my new book of Egon Schiele's work that my daughter gave me for Christmas (we do that early in our family, don't ask), and it will give me pleasure for years to come. It is like that menu item in my "view" dialogue box, "refresh". I want to keep my mind always refreshed by wonder. Beginner's mind, you know. That's the place to hang out.