Friday, January 18, 2013

Fortuitous Friday: I No Longer Look Like a Criminal

With my return to Ireland looming I needed to 'freshen' up my passport. Though it is still valid there area lot of stamps (and an expired UK Visitor Entry Visa) which may raise some eyebrows at various border crossings. Not that there are a lot of actual, official crossings between the North and the Republic. In fact I will be slipping into, and out of, Ireland with them being none the wiser. Suckers. Oh, and please don't tell them I said that- I was once trapped in Ireland for two years due to some, er, technical difficulties with my Immigration status so I don't need to be aggravating them...... again....though, in fairness, it was their fault and the EU Court Of Human Rights agreed and made them say sorry to myself and loads of Nigerians.

I dashed out to get some new photos, and they, of course, suck, but not in the way I'm used to. Passport pictures (and any official photo I.D. for that matter) are always bad. You always end up looking like a criminal in these things which is unfortunate because you are usually looking to convince some official or enforcement type person, that you are trustworthy enough to be let into their country. If you are a criminal maybe the photos come out with you looking like a respectable citizen- who knows.

In any case, this time I thought, 'fuck it' and decided to not shave and get the photo done looking 'au naturale'. The plan backfired, however, because instead of looking like an angry 30-year old skinhead (as most of my photos often turn out to be) I instead look like a tired 42-year-old. It's the first time I've ever looked at a picture of myself and thought 'holy fuck, I'm getting old'. You see I keep my hair trimmed to nothing (electric razor with no guard) and am usually clean shaven, allowing my boyish-good looks (read chubby face) to carry me through. You may laugh but She Who Will Be Named Later is 10 years my junior so there must be something to that theory.

With the gray in my uncut hair showing a bit at the sides, and in m whiskers I look less like a Silver Fox and more like someone who's been stuck home looking after a baby and definitely not going to the gym (or even using the treadmill in my basement). It's also a stark reminder that I am an adult. I know it seems obvious and when you're young everyone over 30 is old, but in reality we (those who are aging) don't actually clue in for some time. My time is now.

It still feels odd that when New Mouth To Feed is grown up (let's say 20 for arguments sake) I'll be, hmmmm, let's see.....fucking old. I'll be 62 and that, right now, seems pretty old, though when I get there I'll likely think differently. You see, I still think of myself as 28. It was a time when I made some really drastic life-changes so it's the 'starting point' in my mind's eye. I forget about the 27 years that preceded it (for loads of good reasons) so it always surprises me that Iam this age. It could also be the fact that I don't yet feel all that mature, especially when I'm strafing my baby in the tub with a toy plastic plane while literally making 'pew pew' sounds. I know, it's ridiculous. I should be using tanks and shouting 'Looks like that one went right through!"

Happy Friday Everyone!

1 comment:

  1. We had to get a passport for Melian before we went to Denmark, which involved a photo. That in itself speaks of a certain sort of bureaucratic idiocy. She had her passport photo taken when she was just over three months, for a passport that will be valid for five years. What on earth is the point of that photo in just two years' time?

    Anyway, she has already gotten the "passport photo" look down pat - look straight at the camera with no expression so it looks like you are trying to decide whether to watch paint dry or do one's homework.