Halloween's not-crone

Halloween brings out the age conflict in me. Too old to be attending theme keggers, too young to care for the older, nostalgic crowd. It’s really a mirror of my life.

I look too young to possibly be in a position of authority at work. When I told someone I was the librarian in charge today, his jaw literally dropped and he stared at me agape as he said, “You are?” I wanted to take back everything I’d done to help him. I’m so tired of disrespect.

Last weekend, I helped a non-traditional student for more than an hour, teaching him how to use online databases and how to physically find books. The last thing he said to me? “So this is your job?” I said simply, “Yes, I’m a librarian,” and pushed the black tar out of my mouth and into my stomach in a clenching knot.

So how does a not-age dress for Halloween, and will there even be a party a not-age wants to attend? I told Matthew our “just in case” plan should be to go as rock stars since we have costume-y enough clothes and props to pull it off, but he said that wasn’t good enough.

Not good enough. Nothing I desire for Halloween is good enough for a not-age. I’m not too settled down to not desire something wild in secret, but I’m too frisky to have the grown-up version of fun. Settled down wins at home, but apparently doesn’t show opaquely at work.

I think I lack youth, and I think I lack age, but maybe what I really lack are locally relevant friends and an appropriate job. Two masters degrees may have made me uppity, but they haven’t translated to connections or respectability.

I don’t know what I’ll be for Halloween, should the need arise, but I know it will involve a prom dress and a wig from Target. Hell, maybe I’ll even get plastic fangs. Go wild, not-age.