The Decade of Adulthood… Or Not
2010. Still sounds like the future to me.
But it’s the future I look forward to. The future of my life as an adult.
Adult. Still sounds like the future to me.
I was chatting with the hubs just the other day about this. My 28th birthday is right around the corner and well, 28 sounds so adult-like. Goodbye mid-20s, hello late-20s, aka almost 30s (is that too old to shop at The Gap?). This is a good thing [unless it’s too old to shop at The Gap]. But at the same time, I in no way, shape or form think like an adult. Well… not often, anyway.
On the outside looking in, I pass for an adult. I’m married. Been married for awhile actually. I have a house and car. Which means a house payment and car payment (it feels like Christmas when you pay something off). I have a job [that I’ve been able to keep for a couple years now]. I make charitable donations. I wash my car [sometimes]. I use coupons. I use anti-wrinkle cream (I don’t think you can ever start too early). I go to bed at 9:30. These are “adult” things, but the thought process isn’t there. I think with this new decade, The Decade of Adulthood, things might change. Or not.
Every decade I’ve been around for so far, I’ve been a child. The 2000s are iffy but I don’t consider college students adults. Unless they’re 25, live on their own and pay their own bills. My blog, my opinions.
1980s – I was born. I started school. I learned how to read. Do math. Cross multiply. Became “four-eyes”. I wanted to listen to GunN’Roses because my Big Bro listened to GunsN’Roses. Not Iron Maiden though. I never understood Iron Maiden.
1990s – Riding bikes was a religion. Rollerskating was my life. Boys became interesting [but not interested in me]. Big Bro showed me this thing called The Internet. I carried a pager. I started high school. Which the only good thing I got out of high school was a diploma and mis tres amigas (Abby, Kelly & Natalie… duh).
2000s – I graduated high school five months in. I became an aunt. I started college. I had my first beer [and then some]. I fell in love. I graduated. I got married. Moved away. Bought a house. Got a dog. Sold a house. Moved back. Bought another house. Got another dog. A deaf dog.
2010 – The Decade of Adulthood. No school. No parental rules. No parental funds. My Our money. Our happenings. Adult happenings. Our life. Adult life. With one dog that can hear and one that cannot. I still can’t get over how in the hell lucky we were to adopt the BDD.
My DAd has always said that even though his body’s aged, his mind hasn’t. He says he still thinks like an 18-year-old. I seriously doubt that 18-year-old Stan would pull out a napkin and draw stock market graphs in felt-tip pen, but I go with the flow. I do think he’s on to something though.
I still think like I’m in college. Like the past six years haven’t happened. Or at least passed really really fast. I have to make more serious decisions than “should I wear the red or the black dress?” or “can I fit this SigEp social into my study time?” or “do I save this money for gas later this week or go ahead and order that pizza?” or “should I get one or two tallboys?” Who am I kidding, I still ask myself that last one. But you get my drift.
So my question is: do we ever really become “adults”? Do we ever lose who we were in our earlier years? Or does the young mentality stay with us forever?
I guess it doesn’t matter… we are who we are. As long as my family and friends keep putting up with me, I guess I’m in a good spot. They’d definitely let me know if I was getting stale.
Don’t Worry… I Have Pictures.
My DAd is a photographer. Back in the 1970s, he used to photograph weddings. I asked him why he stopped and he said, “Because people stopped getting married; in the ’80s, they just moved in together.” But because he sported his 35mm and his “eedeeit-proof” camera, my family has a ton of wonderful pictures through the years. And I’m not going to lie, I was a cute kid. I don’t know what happened.
So… here we go: shutterboo through the decades.
Literally, my birthday. Isn’t my Mom beautiful?
I had no hair as a baby. My parents swear it didn’t grow until I was two. At least I wasn’t aware of it.
I breathed Rainbow Brite. And She-Ra. My favorite thing about this picture is that I still make this face.
Missing teeth and rockin’ a side pony. And jean jacket. This screams ’80s.
And meet the fam. Also known as The Blue Jean Crew. I know… you jock this.
I was not lying about the rollerskating. I went to Robben’s Roost every Friday night. And yes, that’s me in the enormously big glasses.
Friends. I don’t think I would have survived high school without good friends. As you can see, my little skipper’s hair is the same as it was nine 13 years ago.
So we did this cultural arts thing every year and as sophomores we were forced to juggle and have a Renaissance Faire. It was lame to say the least.
The Really Big Show: the highlight of 1996-1999. “Here comes the judge, here comes the judge…”
Senior Prom (technically took place in 2000 but I’m considering the 90s).
My DAd was our “photographer” at prom. Some people might think “how lame is it that your DAd went to your prom!” And then you see the pictures and think “man, her DAd is awesome!” Thanks, DAd, for making those people feel like jackasses.
You see this baby? That’s My Monkey. My nine-year-old niece. And look at my tan. Yeeowza!
I’m a sorority girl – Sigma Kappa : 1♥1→! And I loved it. I’ve met some wonderful women through the organization and across the country.
HUBBA HUBBA! Only the hubs could pull off a 3-piece corduroy suit. Isn’t he so handsome?
I posted this for two reasons: 1) I like it. 2) Because I need to look at this to remind myself to get my ass on the treadmill and work towards being a skinny little tart again.
Our wedding day. And the only picture that I like out of 300. Really the only thing I wish I could change about that day: a decent photographer. Oh, and the fact that Mike got car grease on my dress. And that rip I put in the train. And my swollen face that morning (another time, another story).
Dammit – a second ago I remembered a perfect day.
Well… there are none yet. Don’t worry, I’ll get DAd crackin’.
And there are actually a few more memories posted on flickr. I don’t mind nosy people. 🙂