Well, as of Friday, January 16th I am now twenty years old. I of course feel exactly the same, but just the thought of being out of my teen years makes me shudder. Being a teenager had a sense of security to it... you were old enough to have some responsibility and trust, but not too old where there was a lot expected of you. It was fun to be the dreaded teenager, people wrote songs about how horrible you were: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance or how great it is to be seventeen. I mean think about how many songs glamorize the age seventeen: Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks and Dancing Queen by ABBA are just a couple of the many. I am now old news, chopped liver, no songs shall be written about a twenty year old.
Turning twenty, you would think, would excite me... but no. I am a bit gloomy. I have a serious fear of time. I hate the progression of time, therefore I do not usually enjoy my birthday. When I sleep in too late I start to feel a little anxious... how dare I waste too much of my day sleeping. I always feel that the progression of time goes too fast, I am always afraid that I will miss something special because I am wasting my time elsewhere. Crazy? Yes.
I was thankful that my birthday this year ran smoothly and allowed me to actually enjoy my day of birth. I was, first off, in NYC visiting my dad, which was very exciting. He made me my favorite breakfast... cinnamon rolls and sausage... and then we went shopping at French Connection for a new outfit for me to wear when we went out that night. We attended the Broadway show Cabaret with our dear friend, Greg. Starring Emma Stone and Alan Cummings, you can just imagine how brilliant the performance was. Spectacular really. We then went out for a late, late dinner around 10:45. It was a great birthday and really helped take the pressure off turning the big 2-0.
This is it, this is the beginning of my twenties. Holy s**t,
