on getting old
Saturday was my 27th birthday. You know how people always ask, "well, do you feel older?" Most of the time, I just give them a puzzled stare. Why would I?
But this year, the answer was, yeah. I do feel older. And it feels weird.
Twenty-seven has symbolic significance. Unlike the preceding birthday, twenty-six, you can no longer rationalize that you are still in your mid-twenties. After all, twenty-six is only one number after twenty-five. But then you realize that twenty-seven is much closer to thirty than anything else. And thirty is scary.
I've always viewed myself, at my core, as a "young" person, fundamentally immature. For the longest time, through high school and even college, when I wanted an excuse to get off the phone with an unsolicited caller, I would tell them I was just a kid. "May I speak with the head of the household?" "Sorry, sir, he's not available." "And what about you? Would you like to participate in a 15-minute commercial survey on XYZ?" "Well, sir, I'm just a kid. Goodbye (click)." In the past few years, I stopped using that excuse, but some of the mentality behind it still remains.
And where am I now? About to begin my legal career, check. Undergraduate and professional degrees tucked under my belt, check. Not living at home anymore (finally), check. But I still feel so green, in some ways, that i just want to cringe. Every day, I feel like I am on the verge of making some stupid mistake because of my inexperience in life.
Part of this is because my parents have (with the greatest care and affection) supported me for so long. Part of it is because I would probably fall in the category that you call a "late bloomer." But it's this number, twenty-seven, that is forcing me to confront treasured, and previously unchallenged, notions of my identity and my place in this world.
A very interesting birthday, indeed!
P.s. In no way, of course, is this a quarter life crisis. Don't suggest that to me.
But this year, the answer was, yeah. I do feel older. And it feels weird.
Twenty-seven has symbolic significance. Unlike the preceding birthday, twenty-six, you can no longer rationalize that you are still in your mid-twenties. After all, twenty-six is only one number after twenty-five. But then you realize that twenty-seven is much closer to thirty than anything else. And thirty is scary.
I've always viewed myself, at my core, as a "young" person, fundamentally immature. For the longest time, through high school and even college, when I wanted an excuse to get off the phone with an unsolicited caller, I would tell them I was just a kid. "May I speak with the head of the household?" "Sorry, sir, he's not available." "And what about you? Would you like to participate in a 15-minute commercial survey on XYZ?" "Well, sir, I'm just a kid. Goodbye (click)." In the past few years, I stopped using that excuse, but some of the mentality behind it still remains.
And where am I now? About to begin my legal career, check. Undergraduate and professional degrees tucked under my belt, check. Not living at home anymore (finally), check. But I still feel so green, in some ways, that i just want to cringe. Every day, I feel like I am on the verge of making some stupid mistake because of my inexperience in life.
Part of this is because my parents have (with the greatest care and affection) supported me for so long. Part of it is because I would probably fall in the category that you call a "late bloomer." But it's this number, twenty-seven, that is forcing me to confront treasured, and previously unchallenged, notions of my identity and my place in this world.
A very interesting birthday, indeed!
P.s. In no way, of course, is this a quarter life crisis. Don't suggest that to me.