When Old School Becomes Old Hat

I'm old school. In fact, I'm darn near old as the hills. Next Thursday, I'm going to hit one of those landmark birthdays that is assumed to put a human over the hill and out of commission (and I wish I could say it's only the big 5-0, but that ain't even close).

So I'm thinking about things. Taking a look around. Flexing the old muscles, physically and mentally, and pleased to discover that, thus far, at least, I appear to be largely functional. For the most part.

I get a lot of positive reinforcement for living my belief system. I still have hotties coming after me. (Hey, you get here and tell me that's not important any more!) And I can still put in a week of twelve-hour days and not wind up in a hospital.

But one of the things I value most as I age emotionally, psychologically and even physically -- if I'm going to do any of those gracefully -- is input from younger people who care enough about me to urge me in new directions when it's appropriate to move along.

I'm one of those folks that will spend great energy carefully placing my furniture, art, and so forth, and then leave it just like that until I move to a different location entirely. I am a creature of habit. I am given to ordering the same stuff from a menu. I don't keep clothes I don't love to wear and I'm subject to wear a lot the things I love best.

But I pay Napster every month to keep me apprised of who I need to be aware of. This month's new additions to my personal playlists? Ledisi and Robbie Robertson. Last month, it was Rage Against.

My wardrobe ran to jean-tights and oversize sweaters this winter. And I buy a couple of new attention getting hats every year because I'm a hat-wearing fool.

The only reason I don't tweet (aside from the fact that I'm not a bird) is that I'm not that fond of texting and haven't yet become convinced that tweeting is going to do anything for me I want done at this time.

Still, I was made aware last night that I've been blogging for more than five years now using the same old pre-packaged blogger template I started with. I never got tired of it. I was (dare I admit it?) proud of that little sucker. It was simple but strongly colored. Over time, it built its little following of Faithful Readers (for which I am beyond grateful). And if it had its glitches (like not being wide enough for YouTube music videos of late), I forgave it like I forgive my knees for aching when I jog too far.

But it's time for a shift, I'm told. And of course, once I started to check out my options, I learned how easily that could be done, including the part about changing the width of the blog page to accomodate the videos. Who knew? Not me, obviously, or I'd have done it a year ago.

I've never rushed to embrace change much. Partly because I used to be one of those folks that ran from fire to fire, spending a lot of time nursing burns, and I didn't know how to tell the difference between "change" and "fire."

Increasingly, as my life unfolds, though, I am learning when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em without a lot of angst. So out with the old and in with the new. Blog format, that is. With a tip of the attention-getting hat to my daughter, who I trust will keep me as ever young as she has since she first came into my life to help me stay honest, informed and fresh.