Memory full. Shut down some applications and try again.

Friday, November 2, 2007 at 2:51 pm (Smile Lines)
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You never really think it will happen to you. You sail through your 20s, 30s, maybe even early 40s, and don’t really know what all the fuss is about. Middle age? It’s just a number.

Then it’s YOUR number and it’s up.

I get that you can’t see up close anymore. I get that you can’t burn a calorie even if you light yourself on fire. I get that you can’t be offended anymore when people call you ma’am. I get it. I accept it.

But I don’t accept what’s happened to my brain.

Oh, I accepted long ago that my “smart years” were behind me. The years where I had the capacity to memorize finance formulas and write papers about the French presidency or the role of misperception in the Berlin and Cuban crises and fill blue books answering things like “Is the Soviet Union an evil empire or a paranoid giant.”

Huh? I forgot all that years ago. (Turns out, none of it mattered a whit in the real world anyway.)

But now it seems my “sharp years” are behind me too. Used to be, if I needed an answer, it was there. Ask me the name of a street, actor, 4th grade classmate, flower, spice, brand, tool, The ’70s for $300, Alex  — never had to hesitate a second. Now you can all but see the googly icon spinning in my eyes while the search engine tries to connect, only to stop short: “Neuralnet Explorer cannot find the requested page.” So many broken links.

I’ve tried everything I know to increase speed. I archive old files or delete them altogether, keep viruses at bay, backup regularly (onto paper — more reliable than disk), purge temp files, reboot every morning. Short of replacing the whole operating system, a risky proposition at best for older models like mine, I seem to be stuck with a plodding dinosaur that was once my nimble CPU. Last year’s model that hasn’t the capacity for this year’s upgrades.

I knew I should have sprung for the extended warranty…but of course, you never really think it will happen to you. 

Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened.
                                                                 ~ Jennifer Yane

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Putting a face to a voice — or not.

Monday, October 22, 2007 at 8:22 am (Hack for Hire, Smile Lines)
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noface   My business is highly unusual, even among other free agent writers I know, in that I rarely meet my clients face to face. I’ve worked with people for years and yet know them only by their voice on the phone, their e-mail demeanor, their project savvy (or lack thereof).

I had the rare opportunity last Friday to meet one of my favorite clients for the first time. This is a national company I’ve worked with for 8 years or so, with offices all over the U.S., but I only started working with the Pittsburgh office a couple years ago. Elicia and I met for lunch downtown, and it was great to be able to put a face to the voice on the phone and hear about the company firsthand.

She is every bit as vibrant and intelligent in person as she is on the phone and in e-mail. What struck me most, though, is that I have a good 10-12 years on her. Funny thing about voices — unless someone is quite old or quite young, it’s hard to judge age. But yet, there I was — the older woman. Less hip. More hips.

I distinctly remember being one of the youngest at work — if not a wunderkind then at least a kind. Now I can be characterized as “that nice middle-age woman who writes for us.”

I still work with and have stayed friends with coworkers from 20 years ago. We all stumbled into middle age together, so it was hard to notice. But it happened. In fact, when Mike and I met a couple of dear friends for brunch today, our first five minutes were spent excitedly talking about new bifocals, cholesterol test results, and the merits of flaxseed and fish oil. Until we caught ourselves, had a good laugh about our collective geezerhood, and moved on to fresher topics.

So, is my age a help or a hindrance? Does it scream “experience” or “expiration,” especially considering that I work in marketing, where people create buzzes, gain mindshare, crave sticky Web pages, know what’s hot, and disdain what’s not. I honestly don’t know, and I’m not at that place where I can ask my client, “So, were you shocked at my age?”

What I do know:

  • Hair coloring is my friend (even though my mysteriously thinning hair is not).
  • I’m grateful for the visual anonymity of phone and e-mail (and not only because I can work in my bathrobe).
  • I’ve earned these smile lines, but the wonders of “aesthetic enhancement” are sounding better and better. As the commercial says, “Everyone will notice but no one will know.” Now that’s the work of a brilliant marketing writer, at any age.

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
~ Satchel Paige

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