How bored was I tonight? I was so bored that I actually sat down and wrote...a column. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's the long-awaited return of the critically lauded, fan-favorite column, Hijinx Ensue, in an all-new edition, the first in a year and a half. Don't get used to it, though. This isn't a weekly thing anymore. But if the spirit moves me...write encouraging words about how much it touched your life and I might be encouraged to write some more in the future. And please, bear with me. I'm rusty.

HIJINX ENSUE: What’s Happening to my Brain?

I’m a little worried. You see, lately I’ve been experiencing such extreme personality changes that I can only assume I have a disease. What’s the name of that disease where your mind and body start to slowly deteriorate? Oh, what’s it called...it’s one of the leading killers...Oh, that’s right. Getting old.

I suppose I’m a likely candidate for getting old. After all, I graduated from college, and have a full-time job with business cards and everything. That’s always made me feel old. Plus, I recently got married at the tender age of 22, one of the foremost warning signs of premature maturity.

But things have been happening lately that have me concerned that my agedness is even more advanced than I had imagined. Foremost, I recently started listening to public radio. I have no idea why. Well, it makes sense that I started listening to the local public music station - it plays good, interesting music with none of the radio commercials that make me want to drive into a road divider. In fact, the only reason that I didn’t start listening to it sooner is that in my old car, the frequency of the station caused waves to emanate from my stereo that depressed me. True story.

So I’m not too alarmed by my new allegiance to the public music station. It’s my sudden addiction to NPR I find alarming. For the past year, I’ve lived without cable TV and without a daily newspaper, and the only way I got any news was if someone told me about a joke that was on the Daily Show the previous night. And then suddenly, over the last couple of weeks, I found myself switching over to NPR more and more often, listening to the news.

At first I said it was just because I was interested in the Democratic primary (my new and inexplicable hobby. I almost bought a Rolling Stone the other day because it had an interview with Wes Clark, whereas I had no desire to buy the one with Britney Spears humping a wall on the cover), but I soon found myself listening no matter what weird crap they were talking about. The mating habits of woodland ducks? Sure, why the hell not. This evening I was so interested in a program that, when I arrived at the house, I almost considered trying to tune it in inside. I might as well throw on a cardigan and fall asleep reading my copy of the AARP newsletter.

Then there’s the matter of my musical taste, which has outgrown my youthful cynical elitism and now enjoys whatever the hell is playing at any given moment. Except, of course, whatever’s popular with the kids, so that when I hear the latest popular music I can say to myself, “Kids these days listen to crap!” The fact that it’s true doesn’t make it sound any less cranky coming out of my mouth.

Fortunately, the brain has a neat defense mechanism in place to make growing old less alarming: the older you get, the more you realize how stupid the young are. And the more idiotic teenagers you walk past in the mall, blasting Good Charlotte and scoffing at anyone who has the gall to stare at their bizarre clothing they’re wearing so they can get stared at, the less inclined you are to hold steadfastly to your own, moronic youth.

So maybe my agification isn’t such a bad thing. I’m certainly more informed than I was a month ago (want to know how woodland ducks do it? You sure?) . And I can enjoy more things without worrying about how cool or uncool they are. Yup, aside from my failing eyesight, nonexistent memory, expanding waistline, receding hairline, engulfing debt and crushing responsibilities...what was I saying again?

Oh yeah. If anyone finds the fountain of youth, please let me know about it. Maybe I’ll hear about it on NPR.

Justin Aclin was a weekly columnist for the Daily Free Press. Now he’s, to paraphrase Bernie Mac, “a grown-ass man”.