Rocking out to Beatles right now, looking at all the pretty pictures in my comments. Thank you, everyone (early, on time or late).
So... one year older (and deeper in debt). I feel no different. In fact, I had to ask my husband how old I was. 26? 27? 28?
Honestly, you don't pay attention to your age after 21. Up until then, you can't wait to be older, to be 16 and drive, 18 and legal, 21 and drink. After that great initiation of inebriating yourself into adulthood, age is of no further concern. There are no special perks of reaching 25, or 27, or even 29.
Thirty is another issue. At thirty, you enter a new phase in your life, that "thirtysomething" decade where the rebellious stupidity of teenage years and the laid-back optimism of your twenties is replaced with something heavier, a mortality which does not reached most people until then.
I'm not ready for that phase yet. Me and my mortality are good friends, but I don't like to visit him often. I'll let that association simmer another three years.
For now... wow, 27. So flat sounding. That's like asking someone where they went for vacation and they answer "Delaware." You reply with "oh, cool" and think what a lousy place to be.
But 27 isn't all too bad. You're not 30 and feeling aged, you're not 21 and wondering what all the fuss was about, it's just a damn beer! You're at a youthful point in your life where things are more settled, life is wonderful, maybe there's a special person in your life... or maybe you're having fun looking for them. For me, I have a loving husband, a caring family, wonderful friends, supporting associates, and I STILL WANT A KITTY!!!
Doesn't look like I'll be getting one for my birthday, either.
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