As my 20th birthday rapidly approaches, I have been quietly lamenting it. It’s not that I’m going to die, the world’s going to end or even that I’m going to be simultaneously struck by lightning and mauled by a Kodiak. It’s that, I’m no longer going to be able to use, “but I’m only a teenager,” as an excuse any longer. I will officially be an adult.
While stewing over the 20th Anniversary of Chet, my girlfriend stumbled upon a Weblog post entitled, “15 Things it Took Me Over 50 Years to Learn” by Dave Barry. One of his maxims stuck out to me, especially, because it was on the topic of birthdays. Barry said, “There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age eleven.”
It’s undeniably true; after that age, no one really cares when your birthday is, except perhaps your closest friends and immediate family. Co-workers only remember it if you work at a company which posts such events on the weekly calendar. Other than that, no one really cares. This doesn’t really bother me, to be completely honest with you. However, it’s an important lesson for some people, because they have not yet learned that no one cares.
I’ve decided that every adult, including my parents, that I came in contact with as a child is a liar. I remember looking up to adults, and even teenagers, as a child and thinking, “Wow, I can’t wait to grow up.” Man, was I delusional. I know that I am not the only person to ever think like that, so fess up now if you’re one of us!
The adults in my life always made being an adult look so cool! They got to stay up as late as the wanted. They could eat whatever, whenever they wanted. They could drive! Nor did they have to go to stupid, boring school. The list could potentially go on forever. However, it is at the ripe old age of 19 that I have decided to debunk the awesomeness of adulthood for children everywhere before it is too late.
Being an adult is nowhere near as glorious as I once thought it would be. Okay, yes I can drive, stay out late, I don’t have to go to school and I get to feed myself, but I’d rather not do any of that. Driving is actually very monotonous, and is not as much fun after you’ve been doing it for four years. Staying out late is good and all, but you still have to get up early in the morning, and being tired makes your day miserable. I choose to go to school, because working full-time sucks. Also, now that I’m an adult, I am paying for my own tuition, books, rent, bills, car insurance and lien. Trust me, life was so much better whenever you had someone making decisions and paying for everything you needed to survive.
For all of you children out there, go find Peter Pan! He is your only hope! For all of you that are already adults, I’m sorry. I’m currently devising a plan to be eight-years-old again. Then again, when I think about it, I’ve had more fun in the past two years than ever before! I think I would rather just be a professional college student, who doesn’t age and has an eternal full-ride scholarship. Yeah, that would make life perfect.