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Feb 18, 2008 - 05:11 AM |
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February 18th |
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So it's President's Day, and in approximately 2 hours 5 minutes from typing this sentence, I will be 21.
I can buy alcohol now. I can do more or less whatever the fuck I want, so long as it's legal. I'm an adult now, with all the rights and privileges inherent in adulthood.
Y'know, it's funny. The more I think about it, the more I agree with the drinking limit. When I was 18, I was an irresponsible little prick. I did whatever the fuck I could to be as lazy as possible, I was going emo over losing my first girlfriend (That's right, motherfuckers. I've been single for 18 years. Best part is that it was a long-distance relationship from day 1 to the end), and generally I was... well, still a kid. Sure, I puffed my chest out and got indignant when people said "Dude, you're not an adult," but the truth is they were right. And most of all, I know that I did not view alcohol with anywhere near the wariness I do now. And I have a DAMN good reason for being wary of alcohol. My entire family has alcoholism running in them. The only reason my dad wasn't an alcoholic is because he was too damn poor to support the habit, but if he went to a bar, he did not leave until he was falling-down drunk. My mother's family was the same way, too. By the time my dad could support a habit, he'd already grown up. He had a daughter to take care of, a job to maintain, and a life.
Still, I dunno. I still feel as if I'm lagging behind everybody. At the age of 21, I'm doing shit that people at the age of 18 have done. As I mentioned before, I've been single until a few years ago, in a relationship that ended disastrously. Hell, I still live with my parents, for fuck's sake. I'm only just now seriously pursuing a degree in a four-year college, and I still have to worry about finishing credits in the community college I'm attending so I can get a transfer degree. The second my sister graduated, she was off to California, to study at Caltech, while the rest of the family moved down to the shithole of Tampa Bay, Florida.
Bah. Ultimately doesn't matter. I'm making a decent living working part-time for Pizza Hut, and I'm going to be moving out soon, and hell, worst comes to worst in terms of love, I'll either turn gay or just stay single. It's not like the family line's depending on me to have a kid or anything.
Hmph... I hate how birthdays make you all introspective and shit. Won't stop me from getting smashed outta my gourd this Saturday, though. Cupcakes & Kegs party for the mother-fucking win.
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