Terror on the Playground

I just wrote last week about turning old. Well, that is still true, but there are certain qualities about being old that I have not yet been able to encase into my being. I bought the first season of “Supernatural” last night. I had not seen any episodes of it, but it looked like something I would love. Kind Buffy-like. Hence, much television pleasure. I started watching the pilot episode as Dunkyn and I crawled onto the futon to sleep. Apparently, the fear part of me is sill about five years old. I was terrified. I think it was mostly the music, but still. I had to keep fast forwarding so that I could see whatever was about to pop out and how the scene would end. Then I could go back, all the while glancing over my shoulder, and watch it again in normal time. I discovered that if you do that about fifteen times, a normal hour show takes a hell of a lot longer to get through. Just extend the terror. Can’t wait to do it again tonight. Although I should probably save it for the daytime or until I am dating again (if that ever happens). Maybe I will just stick to Will & Grace.
I find it fascinating, not to mention frustrating, how so much of myself seems to be divided. In so many ways, I am an old soul. I have always been responsible (excluding the paper we value so much—money), fairly boring and more thoughtful and self-aware then many in my age group. However, I feel like I am twelve when in a relationship. It freaks me out, I have no idea what to do or how to be, not to mention being able to stay sane through it all. I still don’t quite know what I want to be when I grow up. Yeah, I have wrinkles around my eyes now, and a few gray hairs (that blend very nicely into the blond and red around them, thanks for noticing), but part of me is still in diaper training.
Will there ever be a day when I am completely one uniform person? Probably, when I am old and get Alzheimer’s. Then all of me will be childlike, maybe even the diapers!