one of my good friends has this lovable way of speaking in an accent reminiscent of a young child from the south (if you're thinking it's you and the title of this post reads properly to you, it probably is you.) it makes me feel strangely at home in a siblings-at-play sort of way.
it hasn't been an easy past few weeks for me here in chicago. please don't fret, i'm in no danger, but you know how sometimes things just get hard and there's not much to be done. my roommates have gotten more colorful--or perhaps off color would be a better way to put it--since classes have ended for us all. my bike, dylan, has become a labor of love: first, he needed some inner-tube replacements and a little TLC for his gears. then, as though the repairs gave off a scent for those in need of some fast cash, one of my wheels was stolen during the night not two or three days later. i'm not having a great time at the internship (in fact feel increasingly out of place there as time goes on), and i miss seeing my friends from that photo class that ate up my life. funny how things work, innit it?
i am thankful for the friends who have listened to me gripe in a variety of ways and supported me with little things, showing they're paying attention. it really does mean the world, you guys.
the bright lining is that today is my twenty-first birthday. seems crazy, no? i certainly don't feel old enough to be 21. i feel about 19. but i suppose when i turned 19, i felt about 16. and when i turned 16...i felt about 14. see the pattern? it seems that my perceived age is perpetually two or three years behind my actual age. who else gets this? i wonder, does this gap between perceived age and actual age get smaller or larger as time goes on, or does it fluctuate with time? will i feel 24 when i am 26, feel 45 when i am 50, and then go back to feeling 62 when i am 64?) i would love some insight on this perceived age/actual age gap.
i plan to celebrate by going out to dinner with a sorority pal of my mom's, attending a new friend's birthday party on friday, and traveling home on saturday. that is the finest gift of all in this--i get to go home! there is a lot to do between then and now--packing, getting final moving out plans underway, and some of my own projects i've been working on.
can i just say something about being 21? there is a benefit for being under 21 when you're like me: you have an easy reason to say "no" to a lot of things that you're probably just as well without. drinking, and certain shows and clubs (or what have you. personally, i hardly know what to do with myself in a room full of people i know. somehow, going into a dark room of people i don't know just doesn't sound like a good time. sorry.). now that i'm over 21, there goes that excuse. i'm not saying that i'm tempted to dive full-on into a world that has been thus far restricted from me--the opposite, in fact. it's that i have no attraction to the things that i should be rejoicing about now. it's just a heckuva lot more complicated to explain that "no, i don't have problems with other people doing these things responsibly, it's just not my idea of a a great time. plus, that stuff tastes funny. plus, it's not like it's a nutritious drink and i'm trying to watch my health. can you tell me why i should want this? ", as opposed to, "thanks, but can't. not 21 yet."*
except for voting. i'm pretty stoked about voting.
*this entire conversation is an interesting one, actually. i feel as though i'm in the minority of my similarly-aged peers, and it begs questions about how alcohol was treated in my home as i grew up. i'll just clear it up: my house has been alcohol-friendly for about as long as i can remember. not soaked, mind you, but friendly. i was always allowed to try some of what was being served if i wished, and did upon occasion. there was no vilification or exultation of the thing, it plainly was what is was. that's all.