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I generally don't feel old or even middle-aged (elementary-school kids are a good antidote to that, for me). But it seems appropriate to note the one time recently when I genuinely felt like an adult:
I finished T. Kingfisher's Summer in Orcus, in which Baba Yaga grants the eponymous Summer her heart's desire, and because I'm a daydreamer I set about deciding what my heart's desire would be. And after not very much thought, I concluded that the genuine wish of my heart . . .
. . . was to live in a post-scarcity society.
And that's when I said to myself, boy, I'm not even remotely a candidate to be the protagonist of an adventure novel any more. (Not that I ever was. But still.)
I finished T. Kingfisher's Summer in Orcus, in which Baba Yaga grants the eponymous Summer her heart's desire, and because I'm a daydreamer I set about deciding what my heart's desire would be. And after not very much thought, I concluded that the genuine wish of my heart . . .
. . . was to live in a post-scarcity society.
And that's when I said to myself, boy, I'm not even remotely a candidate to be the protagonist of an adventure novel any more. (Not that I ever was. But still.)
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Date: 2017-08-02 03:52 am (UTC)