Where’s my walker?

I’m getting OLD! I just need more cats than any human should have, I need to drive irrationally, and I need to say moderately offensive things because I can and I’ll be right there!

No but really, tomorrow is my 27th birthday. I think these young adult birthday years are some of the worst.

I’m not really THAT old, but certain things are beginning to happen that lead me to believe I’m not as footloose and fancy free as I once was. The main culprit here is responsibility. We’re not even going to talk about that bastard. Responsibility is a dream-killing asshole and we won’t be paying anymore attention to him.

Anywho, my point here is these birthdays are right in the middle of the 2 major types of birthdays. When you’re younger, every birthday is exciting. People buy you toys, and each birthday brings you a step closer to new experiences as you get bigger. When you’re older, birthdays are usually a time for reflection, or for being grumpy that more things hurt today than hurt yesterday and it’s not getting better. Also, people buy you stuff you need and you get to buy yourself something you’ve wanted all year.

These young adult birthdays typically result in being too old for fun stuff, and too broke to buy stuff for yourself. All you’re left with is the being grumpy about getting older, and people figuring you’re too old to buy anything good for anymore.

Well now that I’ve made myself sound old and grumpy by complaining about feeling old and grumpy, I plan on avoiding all semblance of responsibility for the next 24-48 hours.

That’ll teach ’em!

Though I’m not sure who ‘they’ are.

Innocence Lost (In Which Growing Up Is A Bad Thing)

The best part about growing up is getting to do all those adult things you always wanted to do as a kid. Everything looks like so much fun! Not to mention all the time you spend getting told ‘No.’ by someone older and ‘wiser’.

The worst part about growing up is realizing how much you hate everything that you have to do as an adult. Parents spend so much time hiding all the real life work, projects, chores, bills, and pain from their children. Now that I’m here, all I want to do is go back to when the bulk of my responsibilities revolved around homework and making sure the trash got to the curb on the right day.

Guess what I had to do yesterday. That’s right, I had to make sure the trash got to the curb on the correct day. The difference was, first I had to drag myself out of bed, then I had to get ready for work, find my own breakfast, drive to work, work for 9 hours, drive home, figure out dinner, fix dinner, clean up from dinner, and then make sure the trash got to the curb.

The real tragedy isn’t that as an adult I have to do all those things, in addition to what I had to do when I was 15. The real tragedy is that I thought it could only get better when I was 15, and the only way to find that out is to no longer be 15. I can never go back to when my portion of the housework took about 10 minutes. Realizing you can never go backwards is when the innocence is really lost.

There isn’t much to do besides feel jaded once you make both the realization that you can never go back, and the realization that you might actually want to.

Of course, it isn’t the end of the world that you can’t ditch all your responsibilities and act like a teenager again, but it might be the end of the world as you knew it before.