December

Not everyone in late December, 1963 could have been a young, happy person.

Perhaps in fifty years, some just-graduated college kid will nostalgically idealize what it must have been like to be young and happy in 2005 or something.

I don't exactly feel old, because whenever I get close to that feeling, I think about how I'm 22 years old, and how most people would just laugh derisively if I said I felt old.

But I do feel weird. Like I'm nobody, nothing at all. Nowhere man. Maybe Blink 182 got it right. Nobody likes you when you're 23. Could juvenile third-wave punk-rock revival from the late 90s really guide my thoughts now? Combined with the Beatles, it seems that way from what I've just written. I can't tell if this is gracious and wise of me, or just sad.