I turned 20 this week.
It feels weird being 20. Not because anything drastic has changed. Not because my body is all of a sudden falling apart. I just feel weird.
I can measure my life in decades.
I’m just about halfway to my scheduled midlife crisis.
Being 19, you are still a teenager. You can still somewhat identify with your slightly younger peers in high school or even 8th grade. You shared an age-group with them. But 20…you’re an adult. You’re considered an adult. A young adult, but an adult nonetheless. At 20, you judge the high school girls who somehow managed to get media passes for the Indy 500 Media day*. At 20, you’re all of a sudden in countdown mode to that infamous 21st party. At 20, your advisor asks you things like, “Have you thought about graduate school?”** At 20, you realize that it’s the same amount of time between now and your college graduation, and now and your high school graduation.
It’s all very metaphorical and abstract because in reality, not much has changed. It took about an hour before my mom could get a single “nice” picture of my twin and I together (and I use the term “nice” very loosely). I about fell over laughing when my best friend and I said the exact same thing at the exact same time. And I can still wear my high school jeans (HA) so there’s that.
Really my point is that getting older is weird and I now feel a sort of kinship and camaraderie with other adults.
In other news, happy race weekend and happy Memorial Day!
Make wise choices.
*Seriously who let them in? Because as far as I could tell they did nothing but take pictures of random things and then go be groupies for the 19-year old driver.
**At which point I looked her in the eyes and calmly asked her to not ask me that question until at least November when I’m 20 and a half and more suited to handle queries of that sort.