Twenty-twennui
So as of a couple hours ago, I am 22.
This is alarming.
I know I'm a young guy and I have all my life ahead of me. I also know that my older LJ friends will groan when they read this entry. That's fine, I realize it's all in my head. But man, I feel so old. More than that, I feel incredibly deflated.
There's this gnawing feeling inside of me that I should be in a whole different stage of my life right now. It's odd. I feel so ridiculously old and so immature and unprepared at the same time. Like at this point I should've been done with school. I should've been halfway through shooting my first film. I should be content and in love and secure. It feels like I've been stuck in the same station in life for the last two years and although things couldn't be more different, I still feel time slipping away from me.
The Weakerthans are a wonderful little band from Winnipeg, Canada that bridges the gap between punk rock and indie-folk. They have some rocking tunes as well as many wonderfully sparse, desolate songs about disappointment. One of my favorite songs is "Everything Must Go!", which contains these all-too-fitting lyrics:
"Garage Sale, Saturday, I need to pay
my heart's outstanding bills
A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch,
some plastic daffodils.
The cutlery and coffee cups I stole from all-night restaurants,
a sense of wonder only slightly used,
a year or two to haunt you in the dark.
For a phone call from far away
with a "Hi, how are you today?",
and a sign recovery comes
to the broken ones."
I know this is all due to my own neuroses. I know I'm on track and, for the most part, doing pretty well. But I can't help feeling all this... nothingness.
22 is a clunky number. It lacks the tentativeness of 21. It feels a lot more real. It's a "take charge of your life" number, and the notion is frankly terrifying.
As to how I'll spend my birthday, it will be a very low-key weekend. Buenos Aires is deserted as many people flocked to the coast, Brazil or up north to spend the Easter weekend. Many of my friends aren't here, so I decided to postpone my birthday celebrations. Next week, we'll be going over to the Quilmes beergardens, where we will be drinking copious amounts of ice cold beer straight from the biggest brewery in Argentina. Last year's trip was a smashing success and if we can do it again it will certainly be a birthday celebration to remember.
For now, it's 3 in the morning and I'll roll over and get to sleep because I'm a crotchety old fart and need some rest.
Oh, and I'll leave you with one quick picture.
Yours truly trying to keep up with Mike the German during last night's after-office. I failed.
This is alarming.
I know I'm a young guy and I have all my life ahead of me. I also know that my older LJ friends will groan when they read this entry. That's fine, I realize it's all in my head. But man, I feel so old. More than that, I feel incredibly deflated.
There's this gnawing feeling inside of me that I should be in a whole different stage of my life right now. It's odd. I feel so ridiculously old and so immature and unprepared at the same time. Like at this point I should've been done with school. I should've been halfway through shooting my first film. I should be content and in love and secure. It feels like I've been stuck in the same station in life for the last two years and although things couldn't be more different, I still feel time slipping away from me.
The Weakerthans are a wonderful little band from Winnipeg, Canada that bridges the gap between punk rock and indie-folk. They have some rocking tunes as well as many wonderfully sparse, desolate songs about disappointment. One of my favorite songs is "Everything Must Go!", which contains these all-too-fitting lyrics:
"Garage Sale, Saturday, I need to pay
my heart's outstanding bills
A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch,
some plastic daffodils.
The cutlery and coffee cups I stole from all-night restaurants,
a sense of wonder only slightly used,
a year or two to haunt you in the dark.
For a phone call from far away
with a "Hi, how are you today?",
and a sign recovery comes
to the broken ones."
I know this is all due to my own neuroses. I know I'm on track and, for the most part, doing pretty well. But I can't help feeling all this... nothingness.
22 is a clunky number. It lacks the tentativeness of 21. It feels a lot more real. It's a "take charge of your life" number, and the notion is frankly terrifying.
As to how I'll spend my birthday, it will be a very low-key weekend. Buenos Aires is deserted as many people flocked to the coast, Brazil or up north to spend the Easter weekend. Many of my friends aren't here, so I decided to postpone my birthday celebrations. Next week, we'll be going over to the Quilmes beergardens, where we will be drinking copious amounts of ice cold beer straight from the biggest brewery in Argentina. Last year's trip was a smashing success and if we can do it again it will certainly be a birthday celebration to remember.
For now, it's 3 in the morning and I'll roll over and get to sleep because I'm a crotchety old fart and need some rest.
Oh, and I'll leave you with one quick picture.
Yours truly trying to keep up with Mike the German during last night's after-office. I failed.