Wednesday, June 22, 2011

What's my deal with being old?!

As my birthday comes nigh, I find myself trying to decide how old I will be between July 14th, 2011, and July 13th, 2012. For the past 4 years I've been 23 (which is funny, because when I actually turned 23 I claimed to turn 24, and when I turned 24 I went back to 23... so I guess I wasn't technically 23 for a little while, although it was the only time I actually was 23...), and I don't know that the fifth one's the charm. And turning my real age - well, that's just NOT an option.

In trying to stop thinking about what age to celebrate, I started to ponder, wtf is my problem with age? And I realized two things. First, I have ridiculously high standards as to what one should have done by the time one is my [real] age. As far as I know, only one person has accomplished what I wish to have had accomplished - but (a) he's 5 years older than me, and (b) he's about a million IQ points smarter than me. Damn Engineers. So, in normal-IQ-people-world, that leaves me to be another mediocre many-year-old girl. But then, the second reason why I have issues with age is because I refuse to be old. Worst part is, you're only as old as you feel, and I feel pretty darn old.

I feel old because I now wash my laundry when it should be washed, as opposed to washing my laundry when it smells so bad and looks so gross that it needs to be washed. Pearl knows exactly what I'm talking about. Sadly, so does her husband, Jeff. I feel old because I always have clean underwear in my panty-drawer, as opposed to the good-ol'-days, when I used to have to run to Walmart to buy new panties because the ones I had were all dirty. That, or run around commando.

I feel old because (in the same line of the laundry thingy) I not only notice that certain items of clothing should be ironed, but I also want them to be ironed. I think I am ancient now, because I am seriously considering  buying an iron thingy. Someone please shoot me if I actually do.

I feel old because I find myself appreciating wine, and I actually enjoy spending more than 30 Euros in a good bottle. I remember the days when I would drink anything with alcohol - I think I drank spoiled Eggnog with Pearl once. It was all going to come back the same way it went in, so why waste money? But now, I enjoy it, I savour it. When my ballgladder allows it, that is.

But I feel old because before I spend those 30 Euros in an unnecessary bottle of wine, I consider my choices and alternatives: Would that money be better spent in necessary clothing? Or in books? Or should it be left in my savings account? Or should I leave it in my checking account in case I have a shortage next month? Money is no longer a gift from my Daddy every month (it hasn't been for the past 10 years, which makes me feel like a dinosaur...), but the product of my hard work. And I realize that it might not always be there, looking at me, just waiting to be spent. So I better save up. Right? Yeah. I'm a granny.

I feel old because 20-something-year-olds drive me insane. Bare in mind, I am still a 20-something-year-old.

It's all about perspective, no? I guess I could just say I am a mature, well-brought-up Lady. And I've experienced some pretty cool stuff, even though I try to remind myself otherwise.

I don't know.

Maybe I'll just celebrate Bastille Day instead of celebrating my birthday. But don't forget we should ALL honor Bastille Day by giving me presents. A Wish List will gladly be sent upon request. Or contact Nini or Honey. They have a bunch of ideas.

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