As of late, particularly with graduations and summer weddings, my friends have frequently remarked on our age. We say we feel "old" and our teachers, parents, and everyone laugh hysterically. We selfie-obsessed millennials have less than a quarter century under our tackily rhinestoned belts and think that we've attained some semblance of wisdom via Twitter or an inspirational Tumblr.
I get it. We aren't ancient or anything.
But cut us some slack; it's something when 20+ Facebook friends get engaged over Christmas break and besties from high school have weddings and children. It may be a natural something, but it can be shocking.
In high school, we're all on some similar level. No one really knows what the hell is going on, and those of us who momentarily think we do are wrong. We have the same classes and see the same people. In college, it changes. Diversity flourishes; we are forced to make definitive choices on the daily. Some don't even do the college thing and instead dive directly into life. When I went home in May, I ran into several classmates (class of '09) with 2 or more children. Good for them, but I couldn't even fathom having a family at this point.
Those differences aren't negative, but rather something beautiful. We're blessed to have the opportunity to choose. Many people in many places simply don't; I acknowledge that.
Regardless, time has passed. In my older age, some things have definitively changed.
I'm more calm.
Laugh as you might, but this is the truth. Though it was truly a different lifetime, I can still remember my spastic high school self. That more high-strung and dramatic version of me would not be handling all that goes on now very well.
Introversion has increased.
I really ought to redo the Myers-Briggs. When I took it at DLA back in 2007, I was wayyyyy on the extrovert side. I still am on that half, but certainly far closer to the middle. I enjoy my lonely time. My room is a haven. I don't constantly search for companions.
Far away future things seem plausible.
Marriage. Kids. Career. Health insurance. House payment. All these things that seem so adult will potentially start happening in the next 3-7 years. Wut.
I've finally accepted moving as a part of life.
When I was a kid, I cried when my parents wanted to build a new house and move. I refused to accept a change of home. Now, I'm semi-eager to find new digs in the coming years. It'll be great to live in other parts of the country and see how life is there. Nothing will lessen my dread of packing/moving, but the nesting/settling process that follows will be fun.
There's only hope.
The biggest change in my life from my former self is Jesus. Knowing Him has altered the fibers of my very weird being, and the repercussions reverberate though every moment of every day. I'm changed because it's no longer me me me, but the singular and glorious Him. I still fret and I still get down, but at the end of it, I'm not in control and I trust the One who is. So it's all good. It's all hope.
When I'm actually old, I'm fairly certain I'll be cool (or whatever lingo means "hip" in 50 years). I look forward to the prospect of being a grandma.. one who pranks her grandkids and destroys them at all games, but has the most delicious homemade snacks to help soothe their crying afterwards. The thought of tending a garden and playing Pinochle and Catan with other white-haired friends is exciting.
I hope the internet doesn't explode before then so I can look back at this blog and see my feelings as a bright-eyed, vivacious 22-year-old. I'm not full of catchy wit or artistic stories. I don't take mind-blowing photographs or post my own recipes (though someday that recipe thing will be real). But yet I'm here, pounding away at my recently coffee-soaked keyboard to bang out words that maybe 3 people will read.
But you know, that's alright. There are worse things than blogging mediocrity.
Someday, something nice might spring into type from my sandpaper fingers. Hopefully this silly site will catch it.
For now: Life is good.
That's worth recording.
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