The sad fact is: I’m too old for this shit
There are a lot of things in my life that I’ve been analyzing; things that I’m discovering that I’m probably actually too old for these days. But when you’re a person who regularly forgets how old you are, it’s actually a bit difficult to keep things into neat piles of age appropriateness. Not everyone has this problem, but most people aren’t told they look no less than 6 years younger than they actually are on a daily basis.
There are a lot of things that I’m finding that I’m too old for, and things that I should be rushing to accomplish as an adult that I never gave a thought to until recent years. How we’re supposed to know when we’re supposed to start cutting the fat, so to speak, to live a more age appropriate version of our lives is a mystery to the human race. Most people don’t want to admit that because they like to think that now that they’ve been crowned as adults that they’ve got it all figured out.
We had a better sense of the world when we were seven than we do after twenty one, and that’s a sad fact.
Barring everyone’s twelfth year of life (because, as we all know, twelve is the generally accepted age where the entire world hates you – and no, it’s not just your imagination, everyone hates twelve year old children), you’re looking at about twenty years of living when you actually had a better grasp on what was to be expected of you when you grew up.
School teaches us how to pass standardized testing so schools don’t lose funding and how to be asshats who think that if the world doesn’t bend to our views then it’s okay to make it a legal matter. School doesn’t teach us how to pay taxes, let alone the process we have to go through for pretty much anything else in our adult lives. It’s a mess – a mishmash of fuckery that we hope straightens itself out into something that seems like what we think the adults in our lives are like.
I’m attempting to put things in containers, though. I’m observing things, and trying to label things for age appropriateness and I’m finding that I’m hoarding intangible things. I’m not exactly sure how to explain the action, as it’s not a physical thing, but it’s something like holding onto mannerisms and styles of dress when it’s no longer appropriate for me to. I never once thought, at the age of 27, that I would actually revert to my style of dress from late middle school/early high school – loose t-shirts and blue jeans with wore out Chucks. But, lo and behold, that’s exactly what happened.
I’m not sure at what point I decided to try and pick through my life in order to weed out things that I thought no longer had a place in my adult life – perhaps it was when I realized that I’m 27 and single and I really actually don’t want to be single anymore (not that I’m in a rush to get married, but it would be nice to have someone around) – but I started doing it and it’s probably entirely too late to turn back now and restart this whole thing.
I’m too old for a lot of things, and it’s probably a good thing that I’ve realized this about myself and my life.