Wow, it's been a long time since I last wrote a blog post. That's about three months of my life you guys will never hear about. How tragic for you.
Not that I haven't had lots of ideas, because I have. I forget most of them though so I'm going to have to start over. Honestly, my brain is not a very exciting place to be about 99% of the time. And these days, I'm either sleeping, eating, or studying. Which is what finals week of college does to you, to my readers who have never experienced this. I guess a few weeks of sleep deprivation and ten too many donuts will pay off when I have that diploma in my hand, right?
Yesterday was my birthday and although in the past, I tried to keep my age off this blog, I might as well spill since I think the majority of my readers come from my Facebook and already know how old I am. (I don't like telling my age as to avoid bias towards a younger writer, something that has come up in the past).
I have always taken being a teenager very seriously. I played the part of angsty, mouthy, misunderstood teen particularly well, especially if you ask my parents and siblings. Convinced that adults just didn't understand teenagers, I wrote up many an essay complaining about why exactly society looked down upon us and how much better the world would be if we had more say in things. I'm going to say this once. Only once.
I was wrong.
More than anything else I've learned recently (and this from the girl who just studied the execution of King Louis XVI for three months), it's that the more you grow, the more you become familiar with this beautiful thing called retrospect. I know now that I was wrong to believe that I knew everything there was to know the past four or five years. Just because I was feeling all these confusing emotions and having doubts about pretty much everything did not mean that I could relate to anything adults were talking about. I mean, some of it I could but mostly...no. You don't realize as a teenager how much you have to learn. And I don't know why that is. I suppose I could blame it on the hormones, or being locked in a building for a million hours a week with people that mostly couldn't care less about you (still a little bitter about high school). That's what other adults do.
Don't get me wrong; being a teenager had it's moments. I made some friends that I know will be in my life for a long time. I got to live in a beautiful place with lots of room for sledding and hikes and adventuring. I became well acquainted with the local movie theater as I firmly believe all teens should do if they live in a small town and have nothing to do on a Friday night. I played high school sports which taught me some incredibly values that even now I'm trying to figure out completely, but will probably end up in one of my books one day. Also, I got my first job which is an experience in itself and should probably be discovered when you're still a teen so you can use that as an excuse when your boss yells. Because you'll probably get yelled at.
Now though, I realize things are changing. Maybe not in huge, revelatory ways like in the books or movies but in tiny ways. My interest in drama? Way down. I simply do not care who slept with who on what night of the week in whatever color car. Okay, well maybe I care a little bit. But not as much as I use to! The realization that my most coveted item in my apartment is my ten piece Pyrex set came tonight when I came close to dropping one on the ground and thought,
Oh no, this could end badly. I love my Pyrex.
I realize I have a long way to go in growing up but I wanted to document this totally strange period of life where you are in between who you used to be and who you are going to be. Because let's face it. You grownups are not the same people you used to be. Somewhere along the line, you started figuring things out, looking forward, and getting on with the rest of your life.
In fact, you're still doing it.
And I am happy to join you.