October 10, 2005

The Long and Winding Road

So, haven't posted in awhile... I've been super busy, two jobs, a class, a boyfriend, a dog and writing the great American novel doesn't leave one a lot of time for blogging...

But I'm back. I have an exciting couple of weeks coming up here. David, myself, LuLu and Ole Drunk Boy are heading up to Asheville to (hopefully) see Wilco. If not, well as LuLu put it, "I've got to get out of this town for a few days." And I say, "Amen to that sista..." And then the weekend after Wilco (I like the way that sounds) Dad and I are going to do a little camping. It was initially supposed to be a "Rachel goes into the woods alone and comes to terms with her twenty-fifth birthday thing"... But then it turned into a "Rachel and Dad go into the woods together thing". And that's okay. It'll be cheaper and Dad and I haven't camped together in years. I sometimes think my entire childhood was camping at Edisto or Poinsette with my folks or just with Dad. I was kinda annoyed at first, because I really needed some time alone, but now I've come around. It'll be really good to have a couple of days with Pops. After all, he is my bestest buddy. Besides, sitting around a campfire talking about Kubrick and existentialism while drinking coffee? what's not to like?

See, I turn twenty-five in oh, 12 days. I know, I know... everybody keeps saying, "So?". Well, it's a big deal to me. It's the culmination of something. I haven't figured out what yet... but something. Twenty-five, a quarter of a century. It seems really big to me, ken? I always figured that by twenty-five I'd have a great job with National Geographic or Lonely Planet and be traveling around the world taking pictures of things. Life doesn't always go as you planned. And I'm trying to figure out if I'm sad that I'm not roaming around the globe. It's hard to be bummed when I have a good home, a job I love (it's not National Geographic, but it's Educational Television, which is close), the best boyfriend on the planet and a cute little puppy to love me.

Everyone's growing up. I look at my friends, people I've known for years and I wonder how we all became such different people. Everybody is getting married, having kids, graduating and so on. They all seem like adults. It's uber-Twilight Zone.

Somebody told me when I was younger that twenty-five was when you became an adult. That once you hit twenty-five you would know what you wanted from life, that you would be a person. I had this idea that when my twenty-fifth birthday rolled around I would instantly become an adult. I thought I would feel like an adult. But I don't. Sure, I pay my bills, David and I discuss whether or not getting cable is a good idea and where we should open a bank account. We talk about whether to get another vehicle and adult things of that sort. But I'm not really an adult. I can't wait to go to the fair, I still read comic books and watch cartoons. I love to play video games and watch the Harry Potter movies. I like to play with my toy race cars and I hum the Indiana Jones theme every time I take the dog out to go potty. I go to sleep every night thinking about Star Wars, I quote the Goonies at least once a week. I still have a crush on Johnny Depp. I still think my dad is the smartest man in the whole world. I think fart jokes are funny and I have a Sponge Bob Square Pants Pez Dispenser on my desk next to my Incredibles toy. I sleep with my childhood teddy bear and I think footy pj's are the best thing on the planet. I'm an adult? I think not. I'm still the same Rachel: abrasive, obnoxious, caustic and silly. I'm just a kid who's pretending to be grown up.

Maybe it's like Jeff Tweedy said, "Maybe I'm just a kid, maybe I just don't fit in.."

1 Comments:

Blogger Clint said...

Wilco > everyone else. Thanks for commenting on my blog!

4:17 PM  

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