Why I am so old...

Perhaps not as inspiring as "Why I am so clever," or "Why I am a destiny," but if you were expecting the prose of Nietzsche, you were looking in the wrong place to start.

Seriously though, you might reasonably ask yourself, "Why is a 24 year old claiming to be old?" It's all relative, you see. You must consider context. When a 24 year old rolls up to the local skate park, chances are good he will have 10 years on 50% of the population. So that's a start. But the other thing is my attitude towards the youth of today. Those darn kids. Because back in my day, ("When I was their age," if you will), skateboarding had a social element to it. Yes, skateboarding has always been an 'individual' sport, but that's only part of it. That part's about the freedom of going out and skating by yourself and not needing a team or a coach or what have you. The other part, and perhaps one of the most important parts, was the sense of community you got by recognizing a fellow traveler by the torn up sneakers and logo-laden t-shirt. This was the part that allowed you to walk up to a complete stranger in a new place and start a conversation because you already knew that you had at least one thing in common (with the likelihood of many more things, given the circumstances). But alas, those days are behind us. Or so it would seem. Most days when I get to the skate park, usually earlier in the day when there is a smaller crowd, my greetings go unheard. Those greetings being the ones I extend before I realize the floppy hipster hair-do is covering up the ear buds connected to the iPhone that will inevitably be answered as the skater lazily cruises through the middle of the park, oblivious to his surroundings. The whole iPod at the skate park thing only furthers my contention that technology is slowly sapping our ability to communicate with each other like normal humans (as I type away at my blog). The fact that I have composed the above rant proves that I am, in fact, so old. Oh, and my knees hurt. I can't even sit cross-legged anymore.

And we respected our elders. We gave the old man credit when he actually landed a flip trick, no matter how sloppy. Because, hey, at least he didn't early-grab. Little punks.