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04/09/2006: "The cold, icy stare of the 3-0"
"I'm 23. Remember how old 23 seemed when you were little? I thought people would be traveling
in air locks and I'd have five kids. Here I am, 23. Things are . . . they're basically the same. I think time's running out to do something bizarre. Somewhere around 25 bizarre becomes immature."
I guess I'm about that age where things start mattering. Things get serious and complicated. I've been invited to three weddings in the next month. They are pretty evenly distrubuted: one a friend from high school, another from college, and a third from grad school. I'm only going to the one in town, because the other two are right at the end of my semester, my busy time.
Everyone's up and getting married. All my friends are realizing that it's time. They are hanging up their singleness, and resigning to the traditional manifestation of what adulthood should be. Marriage, house, fence, dog, 2.2 kids (Billy, Sarah, and a set of arms)--the whole kit and caboodle.
Now, I've got some issues with marriage, so I doubt I'd take the plunge with my comrades. I've always been of the opinion that one should not get married before 30, because you really don't know what you want. Hell, I still don't think I completely know (evidence can be cited from this last sham of a relationship). But I can't help feeling the icy stare of 30, hardening my soul. And this whole 'depths of love to bitter hatred in one year flat' thing is getting kinda fucking old.
Just some ruminations on the flipping of another digit on the old odometer.
