Last night I said to Diego, "We're almost thirty." And he said, "I know." And then we just considered the scariness of that in silence for a minute. And then we ordered Indian food and ate it in bed and fell asleep watching Parks and Rec at ten o'clock on a Friday because I had a terrible headache (possibly to do with staying late at work, more possibly to do with not enough caffeine) and - although he'd insist otherwise - we were both tired. Because of adulthood. Or something vaguely resembling adulthood. As my friends have birthdays now, the cake-and-ice-cream-related temper tantrums from yesteryears take on the form of what-am-I-doing-with-my-life crying jags. There are moments when I realize that I'm closer to thirty than I am to seventeen, which is the age I seem to think I am, and my first thought is literally: "NOPE. THAT'S NOT REAL."
The episode of P&R I happened to be watching was the one where April and Andy get freaked out about how boring they've become. (Which isn't actually what made me think about being old, we had the "we are ancient" conversation earlier in the evening, it's just a funny coincidence. "Isn't life something," I chuckle, leaning back in my rocker and smiling down at the knitting on my lap as the wind softly blows my white hair against my permanently furrowed brow.)
Everyone on the planet can relate to the feeling I'm describing, which is why I will refrain from continuing to describe it for seventeen lengthy paragraphs. You know what I'm talking about, I know that you do. It's not my impending death that worries me, and aging isn't on my mind either. It's more about All The Things I Have To Do That I Haven't Done Yet. The Things vary with everyone, but the feeling, I think, is universal.
My life is 100% different today than it was less than a year ago. I can think of at least three pretty major decisions I've made in that time, and I regret none of my choices. I chose correctly for myself every single time, BUT. The consequences of those choices present their own dilemmas on which I must act, which requires more decision-making, which means constantly adjusting to altered circumstances and coming up with solutions to eternal problems. And that, friends, is how life works - because I'm not sure anybody ever gets to "a point" in their lives at which they look around themselves and think, "I'M TOTALLY GOOD WITH ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING" and then it stays that way forever and they get a prize for winning life.
That got away from me for a minute. Back to April and Andy and their crock pot - that's what worries me most. (Not "being boring," exactly, because let's be honest. I'm not that exciting. I'm a homebody. My favorite activities are the solitary kind. If you interrupt me while I'm reading there is a very real moment where I actually have the urge to cut you. Most of the time, I get all the socialization I need just from going to work every day (granted, I've always had jobs that require a lot of interacting with people, and I live in a place where it is basically impossible to not be social on some level.) I can feel it physically when I've been "on" for too long: Everything starts to sound funny, it feels like whatever's around me is a movie I'm watching, and I zero in on just getting to a place where I'm by myself. Sometimes Diego wants to go to a party on a boat, and I have had to explain several times that I do not want to go to a party on a boat BECAUSE being part of a group of people I cannot escape for a set amount of hours is my nightmare.) What I am concerned about is falling into a routine that doesn't leave room for possibility. Not wanting to get into trouble all the time isn't the same as not wanting to get into trouble at all. I want to not be afraid of getting into trouble, I guess. I want to fully, consciously enjoy this season of my life. I want to be responsible and plan for the future too, but I don't want to be so consumed with worry about The Big Things that I miss out on everything that's awesome about where I am right now. (I also want to realize that there's really no Thing I HAVE to do; I want to be nicer to myself about the Things and the order in which I complete them. Or skip them. It's fine, is what I want to realize. It's really fine.)
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| The game I'm playing is called "every few paragraphs, choose a picture at random. It doesn't matter if the picture is recent or relevant or of good quality. You can tell this game is real because the name of it is so long." WE ARE HAVING FUN. |
Something I'm hoping will help is to make a list of the smaller-scale stuff I want to get done. I think keeping track of these baby goals will ease some of the massive anxiety gathered in my center area. Maybe. Or I'll just get stressed about the list. Let's find out together.
Be a tourist.
Get to inbox zero.
Organize dresser drawers.
Make this list.
Find memory card.
Use that library box in the park.
Give up Diet Cokes.
Go on a girlfriend date.
Put up shelf in bathroom.
Use fake tan.
I was going to elaborate but I'm tired of this now. Also I have to go get something to annihilate this chin bump before our fancy date tonight. Also should probably wash some clothes. Also some body parts. Also have to pee.
