Saturday, July 3, 2010

What's My Age Again?

Yeah I ripped off blink182. Please don't sue me, I'm unemployed.

Wow it’s been a while now hasn’t it? It’s not that I’d forgotten about this space, it’s more that school (like work and sometimes life in general), has been sucking the iota of creativity I ever had. I swear, if you ever think you have too much talent, attend university; specifically the University of the West Indies; specifically St. Augustine campus (I can’t speak for any other university or campus for that matter). They’ll purge you of that ‘talent’ issue in as little as one semester. Guaranteed. Why yes, I am a tad bitter. Is it that obvious?

I’ll admit my frustration stems mainly from the lack of variety on campus. The median age of my classmates is nineteen years. By no stretch of the imagination can my age be construed as nineteen – twenty three maybe. I am not proud to say that I am probably the oldest young person in my classes.

Now I never expected UWI St. Augustine (apparently the referred campus must always be specified) to be teeming with a bunch of late twenty something year old, full time students. I recognise my generation is at that stage where they are fully immersed in their careers or family lives, but damn, I feel like I’m the only one out of thousands who’s now going through ‘the university experience’. I know quite a number of them have opted for evening university and still more attend other tertiary educational institutions like SBCS and INTAD but I’m still disappointed at the lack of representation from we early 1980’s babies. It would be nice to reminisce on life before facebook ™ and blackberry chat.

So now I’ve stopped telling people my age. Yeah I used to believe all ‘age is just a number, we should be proud of who we are’ and ‘with age comes wisdom’ bullshit. Then I ended up at the university and saw first hand, the scorn and ridicule heaped upon the older students (not to their faces of course) who had the audacity to work and start families straight out of secondary school. Trying to explain to these young’uns that tertiary education wasn’t always free will garner you the same blank, uncomprehending stare as trying to explain to them that relationships were once engendered and fostered without the existence of social networking internet sites and text messaging plans.

Anyways, for some reason as yet unknown to me, my fellow students are obsessed with age. I suppose I can somewhat understand their stance. Heck when I was nineteen few things infuriated me more than people trivialising my ideas and feelings with a condescending “yuh yong. Da is why yuh sayin dat/ackin like dat”. Therefore, I would venture a guess that asking my age is a way of ensuring that I am worthy of being allowed in their inner circles without fear of me judging their youthful impetuous behaviour. God, I sound old. So now instead of revealing my age I ask them how old they would like me to be. It’s a very successful method – they attribute to me a number that they are comfortable with and I get to act however I damned well please, sans the ‘You not too old for that?’ Win –win I say!

As is the wont with these things, I fully expect to be busted sometime in the future. My only hope is that it happens after graduation so I won’t have to actively face that humiliation (why are these situations always embarrassing?). Why yes I am a coward. I never professed to be otherwise. Until then however, I’ll still be here, passing myself off as one of the herd. I knew there was a reason I like sheep so much.

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