Aging
I know for some this will not be remarkable. And by "some" I mean people over 25 or people from the south or small, Christian towns. Yes, again I am stereotyping.
But, suffice it to say, two of my good friends are getting married to their lovers this summer. Not only that but one of my already-married friends (yea, i can't even believe I have one of those) is expecting his first baby!
Okay, I know this isn't so impressive to others but please bear with me. I'm like a girl who blossoms her senior year of high school. This readjustment is both painful and exciting. (yes, i did just compare having married friends to my period). Painful because I am 23 and I long for my youth (law school does that) and exciting because I am entering a new stage of life (even if I did just pass through that very door labeled "grown up"). Plus, it helps reassure that I am mature.
Okay, sorry, quarter-life realization moment.
On another semi-non-related note:
today I saw a man walking with a baby, who was probably his grandson. You know how there is that cliche how men like to walk with babies to gain attention from women? I think if I were to be writing a story about a male protagonist, especially a depressed male protagonist, I would want him to have an addiction to carrying babies because that is the only thing that makes him feel proud of himself, regardless if they are his babies or not. (Ooooo, the plot thickens: a misunderstood baby thief who is simply needs his fix of carrying babies to help his ego). Because you know what? I've never seen people's eyes twinkle as much as they do around babies and ice cream.
But, suffice it to say, two of my good friends are getting married to their lovers this summer. Not only that but one of my already-married friends (yea, i can't even believe I have one of those) is expecting his first baby!
Okay, I know this isn't so impressive to others but please bear with me. I'm like a girl who blossoms her senior year of high school. This readjustment is both painful and exciting. (yes, i did just compare having married friends to my period). Painful because I am 23 and I long for my youth (law school does that) and exciting because I am entering a new stage of life (even if I did just pass through that very door labeled "grown up"). Plus, it helps reassure that I am mature.
Okay, sorry, quarter-life realization moment.
On another semi-non-related note:
today I saw a man walking with a baby, who was probably his grandson. You know how there is that cliche how men like to walk with babies to gain attention from women? I think if I were to be writing a story about a male protagonist, especially a depressed male protagonist, I would want him to have an addiction to carrying babies because that is the only thing that makes him feel proud of himself, regardless if they are his babies or not. (Ooooo, the plot thickens: a misunderstood baby thief who is simply needs his fix of carrying babies to help his ego). Because you know what? I've never seen people's eyes twinkle as much as they do around babies and ice cream.
posted by mjs at
4:54 PM
3 Comments:
Oh, you haven't quite reached the quarter century mark, my child. And let me tell you, when you do, it's quite uneventful. You get less birthday wishes. And friends aren't all that enthusiastic to celebrate in drunken debauchery, which makes you wonder that maybe it's time you "grow up." And the funny thing is that your friends are younger than you, which then makes you feel ashamed of your desire to drink booze to the point that you can no longer keep your inner most desire to lick the face of that beautiful redhead at the bar to yourself. And then you realize that you or your potential future spouse might pop one out in the next five years, which can be scary because you can remember exactly what you did last weekend five years ago because it seems like yesterday. But then you watch Napoleon Dynamite and realize that all you really need is a friend with a delicious bass, and that's when your friend, who you haven't seen in two years says she is sending you a care package for your birthday, and though you really don't want a delicious bass, you beam at the thought of it arriving fresh and stinky in your mailbox.
Are we still penpals? I know I got your original letter, but I was under the impression that I should wait until I got your response to my first letter. If I was wrong, I will write you this weekend. Let me know.
(Kiren)
By
Anonymous, at 11:13 AM
I'm considering turning 25 this year. I have until September to make a decision.
A few years back I made two promises to myself. One was that I would never complain about the price of gas as long as it stayed under $1.50/gallon. The other was that after the year 2000 I would just stop caring about my age, or about the specific year. To me, anything after 2000 just seemed all the same -- and I still feel that way.
As much as I don't care that it's 2005, I'm having more trouble with the fact that I might turn 25. It's terrible. I'll be a half-century old. I'll no longer be able to make a case for being in my early twenties. Chances are I'll start losing my memory and my executive fuction. Perhaps I'll notice my hair going grey or falling out. I might get fat -- I might grow dangerously thin. When I can afford to have a physical (haven't had one in years) I'll have to submit to what I think of as "extreme doctoring."
Hmm...
By
Anonymous, at 2:23 PM
Oh, that last post was from Mike W...
By
Anonymous, at 2:24 PM
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