I'm sure I've addressed this more than a few times here, but I don't feel like digging through the archives for the quotes. It's weird how one can get older, yet still not really "feel" like a grown-up. Like I wonder what it would take sometimes. Would I just have to be super wrinkly to be able to look in the mirror and say, "Oh wow, I feel like an actual adult now"?
To sing the song of my people: being an adult seems to mean buying a house, getting married, making the bebes and so on and so forth, but I fear that those conventionalities are largely unappealing to me. For one, I can't really see myself ever being able to afford buying an apartment in Germany, much less a house...much much less...do that whole suburban thing. I'm a city gal through and through. So I see all that and it looks like a pile of do not want. To make a really weird and probably not all too fitting comparison, it was like before puberty hit and my boobs arrived. I didn't want to get a bra and I held out as long as I could, but eventually I couldn't jump rope or play touch football or really any kind of sport because, well, the girls were kinda all over the place.
It ended up taking being tackled during a game of touch football, getting the wind knocked out of me with my shirt up over my head (flashing everyone, of course) to finally ask my mom to take me bra shopping. That was a sad day. The bra expedition, not the boob flashing...that was just embarrassing. But it turned out to be something that I needed.
Now, I need things/activities/whatever to help me feel like an adult, but still not the Big Three mentioned above. But maybe I also already have some of those things (again, not the Big Three...but other perfectly valid adult things).
I've regressed (acted out?) a few times in the last two weeks and that (as usual) has proven to be counterproductive. And I can recognize that it's frustration getting the best of me, which is human, but also unfair. I'm not the only person in the world that has shit to deal with. I'm not even the only person in the aftermath of a breakup this year. I've heard some stories that are real doozies and make my situation look like a walk in the park.
So I spent my day doing my tax return. It's a sufficiently adult activity, on the one hand. On the other hand, it's a step in the direction of just taking more responsibility. I think that's actually what people mean when they say house, marriage, kids...but really it's all responsibility, responsibility, responsibility.
Yesterday, I got the remainder of my bulky belongings out of Sarah D.'s basement. My living room is still about half empty, but I can take my clothes out of the banana boxes, in which I've been organizing them, and into my wardrobe. I've got this gorgeous apartment to decorate and transform into a place that I want to eventually invite friends over to spend time with me. My apartment is gonna be pretty sweet, people.
I don't have an end to this...but I'm going to stop writing now anyway.
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