It’s one of those things.
When I was 24 I wondered how I would feel when I am 29.
When I was 29 I wondered how I would feel when I am 33.
When I was 33 I wondered how I would feel when I am 36.
And so on (other ages are yet to pass so I can’t write about that. Yet.).
I have an older sister who’s about 13 years older (or is it 10, who cares? The point is she is old).
When I was 13, I saw her packing her jeans and putting them in a box. I asked, why are you putting them away? She said because it’s no longer age-appropriate to wear jeans.
After that I went to my grandfather’s house that was just across the street. I had to cross a short wooden bridge to do that, well not really a bridge, more like a plank across a really huge natural drain. There were some people there catching ikan puyu (I don’t know what is the English equivalent for ikan puyu… wait wait I’d googled it and here it is, it’s called climbing perch).
Now, to catch ikan puyu, you will have to either get yourself down there in the mud, or, you use a makeshift fishing rod and use bits of flour dough as the bait. But the second option is slow and agonizing so most people would just go in there and wrestled the fish out of the shallow water.
One of the guys asked if I wanted to catch some ikan puyu as well. I shook my head and then went to see my grandfather.
Later when I was home I saw that my sister was putting away some other article of clothing – those that she deemed no longer age-appropriate. I remember writing in my diary afterwards I want to wear jeans even when I am 40.
So, check this blog again in 6 years. If I’m still wearing jeans, I’ll post a picture up here.
The ikan puyu story is totally irrelevant, I inserted it in there coz it happened, that’s all.
At times I do wonder about this obsession with age-appropriateness or one’s position or place in the society (or whatever hierarchical system they are operating on lah).
Does it matter?
(I don’t think so)