; although I wouldn't be caught dead wearing them now, I fondly remember how much I hated my parents for refusing to buy me a pair when they first came into vogue circa 1990. I watched the first installment of The Matrix Trilogy on television today and I found the special effects to be just as impressive as I originally thought they were back in 1999. Later on this evening, I had Friends and The Simpsons droning in the background as I worked on my screenplay. This weekend, I listened mostly to music that I rocked out to in high school. (Anyone remember the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Blood Sugar Sex Magik?) And I just realized that nineteen (yes, nineteen!) years have passed since I first set foot in Lowell High School in Lowell, Massachusetts.I think my 1990's nostaglia is rooted in my much-denied fear of aging. I have fine lines on my forehead and the beginnings of what cosmetic surgeons call nasolabial folds. At the age of thirty-three, I have officially reached the point where I am closer to menopause than I am to puberty. I am also beginning to realize that many of my dreams have not come true because they cannot possibly come true--at least not anymore.
I think I'm also afraid of passing away without having made my mark on the world. I am much too narcissistic to content myself with enjoying a simple life. I have an overly strong need to make a name for myself.
I wish I didn't mourn my passing youth but, alas, I do.
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