Comments on: Stanford: Day 58/I DON’T WANT TO GET OLD

By: Sanchit Bareja

Sanchit Bareja — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 11:05:44 +0000

Hmm.. I thought the peak time for your brain is age 30. Still have a long time to go dude. Furthermore even if its 19, its for normal people, not for you!

By: Blair McBride

Blair McBride — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 03:17:54 +0000

For what its worth, my birthdays are a lot like that too. Except with a lot less people – I often shut myself in a room away from people, try not to take calls (family always calls), try to limit the number of people who know, etc. I used to hate my birthdays because my family always insisted on being around a lot (in general, I don’t get along with my family). Now that I hardly ever see family, its more about making a point that birthdays are something I don’t (and don’t want to) understand. Much like Christmas, New Years, etc.

Regarding intellectual peak – I assume you mean your capacity for learning. Technically, you’re probably already past that peak. BUT: learning capacity isn’t everything. Background knowledge and more organized/efficient brain structures (which we lack when younger) mean that learning doesn’t have to be as efficient to get the same result.

Btw, I’ll be in Mountain View from the 5th December to the 12th – should see if we can meet up somehow.

By: Bailey

Bailey — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 01:42:41 +0000

Most of America is into hipness, choice, and being able to overindulge without having to specifically ask for more. I personally like froyo because it's tart and full of acidophilus, and also I can get only the tiny amount I want, as often as I like.

You might consider age as honing the potential that's oozing from your every pore but unharnessed in your wild, reckless youth? Isn't that the classical interpretation? There may be something to it.

I'm afraid of aging for much less philosophical reasons: I'm terrified and prematurely grieving the loss of the lightness running through my limbs.

Sometimes I look forward to leaving school so that, for a small time before I have to be a real grown-up, I can build a little life for myself, helping people and abstaining from meat and wearing skirts and never straightening my hair. Essays and grades feel like outsized sinkers sewn to my clothes instead of fishing lines. Then I think that I ought not to rush toward that either, because it's only rushing me closer to middle age, too.

Then I get stuck.