It's 11 o clock, do you know where your youth is?

The reason no one has heard from me in days is because I am so deep in a Howard Hughes psychosis it's not even funny.  I went to see a movie the other night with my friend. We got there in enough time to catch all the previews because I'm an American and one preview in particular struck my fancy. The first scene was a panning shot of an island I recognized all too well and I said aloud "If this is another Jurassic Park movie, I'm going to lose my shit....Am I right, guy????" elbowing a random. If they make Jurassic Park 27, I would buy the pre sale tickets.  Low and behold the music we all know and love started playing and I thought, it's.about.to.go.down. Then it was revealed that it is just the first Jurassic Park being re released. Not quite as stoked, but still pretty happy. Then came the crushing blow, IT'S THE 20 YEAR ANNIVERSARY RELEASE.....I stopped breathing , my hands started sweating. For at least 5 solid minutes I considered the serious possibility I had fallen into a worm hole or some sort of time space continuum. I turned my hands over to search for wrinkles and started touching my face, checking for the same. I turned to my friend and said, quick,look me in the eyes and don't lie to me, am i 50? This was just the beginning.

I was OK when I was supervised but when left alone I took a dark turn. I thought perhaps I was Guy Pierce in some sort of warped Memento movie version of my life. I started wandering around my house as if it was the first time I had been there, finding things 21 year old me didn't even know existed. I'm not even sure the origin of these things coming into my possession. When did I started drinking Metamucil? Where did those multi vitamins come from? Who put these gel insoles in my shoes? When did I start calling TV shows "my stories"? The kids aren't saying "psyche" anymore? Is it cold in here? My knees and hips hurt, it must be cold outside....... My God, what is to become of me?

My address is now somewhere farther down the rabbit hole in an even deeper type of denial. I've been looking for Ace of Base concert tickets. I've watched every episode of Friends. Twice. I've been refusing to take my vitamins and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for every meal because I am still young. I went to my parents' house to dig out my pog, baseball card and beanie baby collections which are obviously still relevant and worth something. I've been avoiding the mirror but today I went to the bathroom at work and caught an accidental glimpse of myself. My hair was in a super high messy bun and I had glitter on my face. My God, Brown, who are you? Pull yourself together for God sake, you look like a Spice Girl. S Club 7 is not putting out a new record and Nick Lachey is someone's dad.  Joel's been patient with you but you're about one more play of Nirvana's "Smells like teen spirit" from Joel having you committed.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm wading pretty deep in a quarter life crisis.  If you're among the lucky few to be invited to my intervention just know when you are attempting to ask me if the rag you're holding smells like chloroform, that I will not go quietly into the night.