Today, I officially exit my “early twenties” and enter the perilous “mid-twenties.” I am 24. This means I can no longer blame ignorance or poor decisions on youth.
I’m happy to report that at 24, I’ve had a few adult accomplishments. For instance, I did my taxes, successfully navigated the DMV, joined the world of smart phones, and — after 2 years of living in the same apartment — purchased furniture. My one regret is… not listening to to Blink 182′s “What’s My Age Again?” enough during the past year (for its numerous references to 23, obviously). So here goes a few more rounds before the day is done.
Although the movie starring Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson is one of my favorites, it’s unfortunately not the topic of this brief post.
In the past two months, I’ve cooked more often and eaten better food than I have in quite some time. I’ve seen more of my friends, D.C. residents and visitors alike. I spent two glorious weeks sharing my apartment with Alex. I finally squeezed in an appointment for both the dentist and the doctor. And after a year of feeling haunted by what I read in Suze Orman’s Young, Fabulous & Broke, I finally took the time to apply for a credit card of my very own.
What I haven’t been doing is writing. Trust me, I’m feeling guilty and regretful: guilty that I’m not carrying my weight over at Autostraddle, and regretful that I’m not seizing this opportunity to write at my job and not documenting my feelings in this crazy post-college period. I don’t have time! This is what I tell myself. But I must! I must have time! If a CEO or talk show host can do a million things at once, then I must have time to write a blog post. So I have decided: Something’s gotta give.
The first thing that comes to mind to go on the chopping block is sleep. As much as I love it, I truly believe that I can never be successful until my wake-up call arrives by 6:30AM. I secretly fantasize about drinking coffee and reading the newspaper before work each morning. This is my recipe for success — only I have no idea what the other ingredients are. (Also, I haven’t actually taken real steps to wake up earlier, aside from pressing snooze on my alarm with more frequency, nor have I subscribed to a newspaper).
Regardless of these recent failures, I’ve managed to live to be 23 years old and I’m feeling pretty positive about the years that are behind me. For now, I will focus on the small stuff. I will floss and wear sunscreen daily. I will write.. maybe daily (?) but certainly more than I have been in recent weeks. And hopefully, I will sleep less. I hope it all adds up to something good.
Continuing with the recap, I turned twenty-one a few weeks ago. Twenty-one… pretty much the last year to be excited about aging. Besides for the fact that twenty-one is a big deal, this is the first birthday I’ve actually “celebrated” in a while. Last year I was on a plane to Montana and the years before, I had small low-key dinners, etc.
This year’s festivities were slightly more elaborate with a small dinner, a cake/beer get together, and an outing to the Tombs. This might sound weird, but to have a semi-large number of people gather in a room for my birthday was really touching. It just made me really happy to see people I like and who, presumably, like me back all gathered in one place. And it’s not like we don’t hang out in large groups at other times too; this scenario isn’t overly unique. It’s just that the visual of this gathering was easier to notice since it was a special occasion.
Jared, my travel pal from London, came down from NJ, and he bore gifts of port and Cuban cigars. Besides his visit, highlights of the day included Indian food at Aditi and of course Carvel Ice Cream Cake (always a coveted delicacy since moving to California). Mmm, good.
Now back to work, land of paper cuts and damaged cuticles thanks to all this filing. Blurgh.