Two weeks ago, I turned twenty-five years old. My birthday met me with sunshine, and a fun day with my mother, followed by a fantastic dinner with some of my family.
The constant question on the table? "So how does it feel to be twenty-five?" And I of course, sat there like an out-of-water fish, mouth gaping silently, searching for an answer. Technically, I was born sometime in the evening, so I'd only really been my legal age for.... a few hours into the dinner. I was just excited that it was my birthday! Birthday's are a really big deal to me. My adolescent/collegiate birthdays were a bit sad some years, so the post-graduate turnaround has been rather beautiful, each and every time.
I really celebrated all August, with all sorts of freebies, strange adventures, and lazy hazy relaxing. It was fun.
But... this post is not about how fabulous my birthday was. I'll post about that later, when I finally get around to uploading a few pics and videos. Eventually... ;-)
What this post IS about, is what happened today, two weeks after my birthday; after the glow had faded away. I finally realized I was twenty-five.
25. The official "mid-twenties." When my mom was twenty-five, she was a mom of two. My grandmother? A mother, and a self-supporting employee. Me? I work jobs I love, but not necessarily for income I love, while renting out an attic space (it WOULD be an apartment, but it's not fully furnished). No I am not in grad school. And no, I am not married, or mothering.
I am writing this in my fleece Tweety Bird pajama pants, wondering, even as the words appear on the screen, if I am now too old for Tweety Bird Pajamas, and what else I might be too old for. I know I am at the age where I actually have to worry about a "good skin care regimen." I may have finally conguered acne and random breakouts, but this is the age that can make or break my membership in the "Fine Lines and Wrinkles" club, down the line.
When I was younger, imagining my magical ascent into quarter-century-status, I imagined world travelling, I imagined a chic condo, and perhaps a flourishing company. Now that I'm here, I wonder "What have I done?" I'm no longer young enough to amaze anyone at my accomplishments. Just last weekend, I raised some eyebrows at a very special dinner with my answer to the question "so what are you working on now?" (The answer was 'nothing,' and a smile) I could have told them about the meeting I had the following Monday, or the contract I have to sign tomorrow for a drama teacher gig, but... I sort of sickly enjoyed watching them configure how to reply politely. Next time... how about asking me what I've been up to, or what I'm enjoying lately.
I feel my age in my bones and the need to work on my flexibility. I suddenly had a new found respect for middle-aged women with yoga mats and Lycra-spandex ensembles. Body fat is no longer the adorable 'baby-fat' of youth, 'filling-out' of adolescence, or 'yo-yoing' of college grads with pizza-boy dietitians. Basically, nobody is going to feel sorry for me anymore. My health is my own problem. No excuses. I am too old to party with twenty-year olds, and may only respectably associate with maaaaybe college seniors, mainly as a big-sister/mentor type, and only in circles where they are the minority.
Twenty-five is an age where we may be a little more sure of what we don't like, and more willing to try things we've never tried. Hopefully, we are less victims of peer pressure, and more agents of discovery and chance. The things you like? Keep them for now. Except for that Hello Kitty backpack. Give it to your little sister. Right. Now....
Anyway, the things you're a little apprehensive about trying? Do them now. You're still young enough to fall flat on your face and have enough bounce to get back up again. And I am saying this with the knowledge that I am figuring out how to take my own advice. I'm not exactly sure of what I want to do, but I know what I don't want to do. That's a good start. Everything else, is up to you. The first phase of your life has been spent primarily learning from other people. If you're a college grad, you just spent at least seventeen of those twenty-five years in school. Twenty-one years of school if you went to daycare. This next phase, I believe, is about learning from yourself. And from experiences. There's no textbook, and no final exam. Consider it an Independent Study called: Life 101.
The constant question on the table? "So how does it feel to be twenty-five?" And I of course, sat there like an out-of-water fish, mouth gaping silently, searching for an answer. Technically, I was born sometime in the evening, so I'd only really been my legal age for.... a few hours into the dinner. I was just excited that it was my birthday! Birthday's are a really big deal to me. My adolescent/collegiate birthdays were a bit sad some years, so the post-graduate turnaround has been rather beautiful, each and every time.
I really celebrated all August, with all sorts of freebies, strange adventures, and lazy hazy relaxing. It was fun.
But... this post is not about how fabulous my birthday was. I'll post about that later, when I finally get around to uploading a few pics and videos. Eventually... ;-)
What this post IS about, is what happened today, two weeks after my birthday; after the glow had faded away. I finally realized I was twenty-five.
25. The official "mid-twenties." When my mom was twenty-five, she was a mom of two. My grandmother? A mother, and a self-supporting employee. Me? I work jobs I love, but not necessarily for income I love, while renting out an attic space (it WOULD be an apartment, but it's not fully furnished). No I am not in grad school. And no, I am not married, or mothering.
I am writing this in my fleece Tweety Bird pajama pants, wondering, even as the words appear on the screen, if I am now too old for Tweety Bird Pajamas, and what else I might be too old for. I know I am at the age where I actually have to worry about a "good skin care regimen." I may have finally conguered acne and random breakouts, but this is the age that can make or break my membership in the "Fine Lines and Wrinkles" club, down the line.
When I was younger, imagining my magical ascent into quarter-century-status, I imagined world travelling, I imagined a chic condo, and perhaps a flourishing company. Now that I'm here, I wonder "What have I done?" I'm no longer young enough to amaze anyone at my accomplishments. Just last weekend, I raised some eyebrows at a very special dinner with my answer to the question "so what are you working on now?" (The answer was 'nothing,' and a smile) I could have told them about the meeting I had the following Monday, or the contract I have to sign tomorrow for a drama teacher gig, but... I sort of sickly enjoyed watching them configure how to reply politely. Next time... how about asking me what I've been up to, or what I'm enjoying lately.
I feel my age in my bones and the need to work on my flexibility. I suddenly had a new found respect for middle-aged women with yoga mats and Lycra-spandex ensembles. Body fat is no longer the adorable 'baby-fat' of youth, 'filling-out' of adolescence, or 'yo-yoing' of college grads with pizza-boy dietitians. Basically, nobody is going to feel sorry for me anymore. My health is my own problem. No excuses. I am too old to party with twenty-year olds, and may only respectably associate with maaaaybe college seniors, mainly as a big-sister/mentor type, and only in circles where they are the minority.
Just like the other major developments in my life, twenty-five has not exactly come with instructions. But I think there are some key points that people with common sense could agree on.
- It is perfectly appropriate that you are getting married, or having your first or second child. I don't think anyone will accuse you of being "a little young." As a matter of fact, you will be more accustomed to the late-nights and early mornings than your older new-parent counterparts. call on your recent collegiate experiences.
- It is perfectly OK if the idea of wedding bells and baby showers gives you the heebie jeebies. Many of us, myself included, just don't really feel like someone's spouse or parent yet. Contrary to the nudges of parents and older relatives, it very well may NOT be a perfect time to settle down.
- There is nothing wrong with going to bed at 10pm. You do not have to keep up with the raging Night Animals you see on the local party strip, heading out, just as you are on your way home. Remember all those years you would have PAID for a nap? Now's your chance.
- There is nothing wrong with still being a creature of the Night. If you somehow still have a fire burning in your spirit for strobe lights and heavy bass thumping you in the chest, now is a good time to get it out of your system. Thirty is around the corner, and nobody wants to be this guy at thirty. It always looks sleasy. Always.
- Ok, so you're not in grad school. No biggie. Everybody's plan isn't your plan. Maybe you want to see the world, and just experiment with living. You're young and still pretty hot. Besides, grad school will be there. My grandmother's in grad school. Enough said.
- So... you are just getting to grad school. No biggie. Better late than never. I'm sure the few years you spent in between have garnered you some experience, which will give you a valuable leg up on some of your younger classmates when graduation rolls around.
- Don't fret if you haven't found your dream job. Most people our age go through several vastly different careers anyway. It's OK. Experiment.
Getting the picture yet? Twenty-five may bring on some new responsibilities, sure. It will definitely make you think differently about your body, and your health, and probably your wardrobe. I am not getting rid of the fleece pajama pants. Fleece is the best fabric for winter that a Midwest girl could ask for. I'm just not doing it.
Twenty-five is an age where we may be a little more sure of what we don't like, and more willing to try things we've never tried. Hopefully, we are less victims of peer pressure, and more agents of discovery and chance. The things you like? Keep them for now. Except for that Hello Kitty backpack. Give it to your little sister. Right. Now....
Anyway, the things you're a little apprehensive about trying? Do them now. You're still young enough to fall flat on your face and have enough bounce to get back up again. And I am saying this with the knowledge that I am figuring out how to take my own advice. I'm not exactly sure of what I want to do, but I know what I don't want to do. That's a good start. Everything else, is up to you. The first phase of your life has been spent primarily learning from other people. If you're a college grad, you just spent at least seventeen of those twenty-five years in school. Twenty-one years of school if you went to daycare. This next phase, I believe, is about learning from yourself. And from experiences. There's no textbook, and no final exam. Consider it an Independent Study called: Life 101.
Just don't waste it. Before you know it, you'll be thirty.
