My birthday is roughly two weeks from now, just so you know. Yes, I’m the kind of person who reminds people when her birthday is.
I do this because I’m also the kind of person who cares about her birthday and whether or not it is lame.
Now, some would argue that at 26–about to be 27–years old, I’m getting a little too old to care about birthdays and their possible lameness. I, like always, completely disagree. I think just the opposite: the older I get the more I plan to care about my birthday because each year it’s all the more impressive that I’m still hanging around.
Plus, in your mid–scratch that–late twenties you should probably take any excuse you get to celebrate: you’re getting old and your alcohol tolerance and your social life will soon be suffering accordingly. Celebrate when you can: things are about to get all family-friendly around you.
Everyone (I mean everyone) around you is shoving their newly-achieved adulthood in your face: they’re buying houses, they’re having babies, they’re talking about 401Ks and IRAS and other things you don’t necessarily understand, they’re adopting strangely-strict fitness regimes they’ve never attempted before because they’ve realized their metabolisms have already taken a dive, they’re no longer pretending their receding hairlines are inverted widows peaks and they’ve started shaving their heads en masse.
Basically, they’ve all gotten completely out of hand.
And good for them, I guess, if that’s what they’re into. As for me, meh, I’m pretty much exactly the same as I was before and I’m mostly okay with that.
Honestly,I’ve been the same for a good long while. The way I see it, I’ve been the same for at least a good 10 years. There hasn’t been much change between 27 and 17.
(FYI, 17 is my favorite number. It is also the date I was born. These two things are related: yeah, I’m just that psyched about my birthday.)
With my love of the number 17 now explained, let me get back to my point: I’m pretty much the same as I was at 17. (Give or take a few pounds of course, mostly give.)
For proof of my steadfast nature, check out these 17 things I didn’t understand at 17 and still haven’t figured out at nearly-27:
- How to properly apply eye liner and/or why people bother wearing eyeliner.
- How to wear a scarf indoors without feeling like an overly-accessorized nincompoop.
- Why more people don’t say the word “nincompoop”.
- Basic arithmetic.
- Why everyone keeps saying “literally” when they don’t mean it.
- How to make a batch of pancakes without ruining at least one of them.
- How to perform any kind of car maintenance more complicated than putting gas in it and taking it to Midas.
- How to poach an egg or really, what poaching is.
- How people can be vegans or vegetarians when bacon is a thing.
- What to do with my hair: It’s an ongoing struggle.
- How to play chess, or really any game that takes longer than 10 minutes to explain.
- Why anyone would prefer Ben Affleck to Matt Damon. I just don’t get it and I do not want to.
- What I want to do when I grow up? What counts as growing up? Who in the world would want to grow up? And, ummm why would they even want to do that anyway? Etc.
- Which side is my good side in pictures and/or do I even have a good side for pictures.
- Why some people are such jerks, idiots..really you could just insert any negative adjective at the end of that sentence.
- The rules of hockey and/or if it even has rules. From what I can tell, it’s just guys skating around and then occasionally punching each other. I mean, I like it, I’m just not entirely sure what is going on.
- Why I love making pointless lists so much and/or why anyone would ever bother reading them.
In short, there are some pretty important things I still haven’t managed to figure out in the decade between 17 and 27. That was just 17 of them.
However, I don’t think I should give up hope on myself and my potential learning ability yet. I did show some pretty impressive growth in the decade between 7 and 17 (my brief mastery of long division, for one) so I think there’s hope for me yet. There’s really no telling what I could figure out between 27 and 37.
With that in mind, I think I’ll try figuring out number 9 first. How anyone can be a vegan/vegetarian when bacon is a thing is a question that is probably going to require a lot of taste-testing of bacon on my part.
I’ll just take that bacon with a side of birthday cake, please, and 27 could get off to a damn good start.