So...according to my Dashboard, last night was my 51st post, but according to my archive thingy on the main page, this post is my 51st. I am officially confused,(this usually happens when numbers are involved in any capacity whatsoever). So no more counting. Ever. Because I said so. At least until I get distracted and forget
So I'm at home for the weekend (how else could I have watched Sherlock Holmes on Blu ray? I ain't made of money) And me and my dad, as a general rule, get along best when separated by, say, fifty miles. Under the same roof we don't do so well. And when we do actually manage to have a conversation without attempting to bludgeon each other with a blunt object it's generally a "serious talk about the future" which is necessary when you're an English major because the future tends to exist in a constant state of uncertainty. And anyway, with all the talk of grad school and careers and whatnot, it made me wonder. When do we grow up?
I'm not talking about that Peter Pan inner child crap, I mean like, yeah I have a job, I pay taxes, I'm graduating next year (lalalala I can't hear you) but in a lot of ways I still feel like I'm waiting for life to start. I'm twenty years old which to some is nothing but I remember when I thought sixteen was decrepit old age. Perspective is a funny thing like that. For some reason I never forgot this one moment involving this old Nickelodeon show The Secret World Of Alex Mack:
It was this show about a girl who was hit with some radioactive matter and she could turn into ooze and whatnot...the nineties were a bit weird like that.
Anyway, I don't remember how old I was, (between 4 and 8, according the years the show ran) but I remember seeing this commercial and the voice-over dude going "Alex is going to face her biggest challenge yet...EIGHTH GRADE!!" and I remember thinking "eighth grade?! holy shit (or small child equivalent) that's like, a million years away!" I couldn't even conceive me being in eighth grade. And now I'm in fifteenth grade, but I still feel like I'm waiting for my official "grown-up" card to arrive in the mail. I still call older people adults, although I tend to punctuate it as "real adults" like me and my friends are faking it, though that is how it sometimes feels. Like someone's going to catch me watching cartoons and be like "Ha! I knew it! She IS a kid!!" Is that weird? I have a feeling that's weird.
But, just because my brain is a fickle and contradictory creature, I often feel like I'm TOO old. Like my chance for greatness is already over. When I was younger and first starting to write, I was so sure I'd be a big name by the time I was fifteen, and then eighteen, and then twenty, and now? I dunno, it's just I must have heard a million star-origin stories where famous people were "discovered" when they were still not-quite potty trained and fame quickly followed. I have missed my shot to be a wunderkind and even though it was kind of an irrational and illogical goal, it still bugs me. Makes me feel like I've missed the boat somehow. So yeah, I have all the feelings of failure and inadequacy you get in a full-grown adult, along with all the insecurities and fear of "real life" of childhood, the best of both worlds! Swell.
Because what good is a mild existential crisis if you can't use it to make fun of Miley Cyrus?
All righty, that's all the waxing I plan on doing for the evening. The rest of it will be spent reading this:
"If I ever get that old, please take me out back and shoot me" -My mother, every time we see a particularly decrepit old lady in a bright pastel muumuu.