Somehow, I got Old

I may have a Facebook account, but that doesn't negate the fact that I'm old. Plus, I use it for work, which definitely cancels out any cool, young, hipness that I might like to ascribe to myself. Plus, I just used the phrase, "ascribe to myself."

While I'm typing this post, I also have to remember that it will automatically upload to my Facebook page, which is where this all started, anyway. But, I digress. Or more aptly, I regress. Maturity not withstanding.

Anyway.

Kennan always asks me why I click on things that are just going to piss me off when I read them. I don't know. It's like watching a car wreck. I just can't stop myself. So I stumbled upon a group (several, actually) devoted to someone that is not my... favorite... person ever. It was a flashback to my previous frustrations with differences in worship styles.

But this is not a post primarily about my forgiveness and anger issues. Although maybe it should be. This is a post about how old and crochety I am.

"Mehhhh! When I was yerrr age, I had to walk six miles in the snoooow, uphill both waays, jest to get to cherrrch! Mehhhh..." Yup, I'm a fun-hater. Check out the contrast to my grumpy old ways in this comment describing why folks are so fond of said individual:

"Crowd surfing? How many worship leaders do that?"

What? We won't even go into the theological issues. And yes, there was a time when I RAWKED OUT to Christian ska, hardcore, punk, etc. at concerts. I was "in the crowd, all a skankin' and a swimmin'..." (and if you get that reference, you're old, too!). But now, I'm old. I can't even stand up for the entire service because I have bad knees, much less dance. I no longer like music that's loud enough to make windows rattle. I can't stay at church past 9 PM without needing an injection of caffeine. Sitting on hard wooden pews makes my bum ache.

Suffice it to say, I'm OLD now and honestly not too upset about it. Time to take a nap before my 4 PM dinner. Mehhhh!