There comes a time in life when everyone has to face some uncomfortable truth -- some hard, unyielding truth of reality and existence. It's especially hard, you know, when you find that you can't really dodge the situation by pretending that nothing's wrong. Denial is a beautiful thing, but alas, it doesn't work all the time. And so I can't deny it anymore. I have to face this awful and undeniable truth: I am getting old.
It didn't quite hit me until I got the room draw numbers from the Office of Residential Life, a seemingly benign event that reminded me that my Freshman year in college is soon to come to an end. Which means, of course, that I shall soon become a sophomore and no longer be a lowly freshman. This should theoretically appeal to me. I mean it's not like rising in the social chain of command is a bad thing. But at the same time, it means that I can no longer conveniently forget that old age is fast approaching me. I shudder at the thought.
Being the youngest -- or young, at any rate -- has its advantages. People don't expect too much of you, first of all, which makes it relatively easy to impress them. The first weeks of Fall term, I could wow people simply by finding my way from the River to a remote part of campus, like the Green or something. It was wonderful. Being young, you don't have to invent excuses to watch the Cartoon Network. You don't have to take responsibility for anything. You don't have to know what you want to do with your life. You don't even have to cook for yourself. It's the perfectly acceptable excuse for being permanently lazy.
I remember always wanting to grow up. Being grown-up seemed so much cooler back when I was six. All the grown-ups could do the things I couldn't, without their parents' permission, even. Imagine that. They seemed to have all the fun with their cars and their own houses and they didn't even have to go to school. I couldn't imagine a more perfect existence. But now as I'm almost grown-up, I wonder what I found so alluring. All of a sudden, I'm not supposed to depend on my parents to solve all my little problems. I'm supposed to start to figure out what I really want in life. And this whole time, all I really want is to stay in school forever.
The reality of this irreversible aging process was confirmed when I realized that some of my friends would turn 20 in the next few months, a landmark unto itself. The teenage years are behind us and we have to look forward to a decade that will decide our futures. A decade in which we will begin possibly lifelong careers, perhaps get married and maybe even have children. I am barely qualified to take proper care of myself. You can ask my mother that. She worries about my eating and sleeping habits like it's nobody's business and she is probably right to do so. With that in mind, how am I supposed to even begin to take responsibility for my future? A scary thought, indeed.
I guess the outlook isn't all bad. Graduating from college and moving to a big city would be considerably exciting. I would get a job (hopefully) and my own apartment. I would be totally free to do whatever I pleased. I would be independent and self-sufficient. I would learn new things and experience vastly different situations. I would be able to make my own decisions and savor life to the fullest. Not a completely undesirable scenario, wouldn't you say? I guess I would have to cook for myself, but one can't have everything, I suppose.
No matter what positive spin I try to give to the situation, the truth remains that I am not getting any younger. Time flies. It may be a clich, but it's true, you know. Freshman year seems to be flying away as I type and I can do nothing but go along for the ride. Seems like before I know it, I will be driving a station wagon to a white-fenced house in the suburbs after soccer practice. I tremble at the mere thought. I guess I should try not to think about it too much, but just focus on the present. Like the stupid room draw which made me face the truth about aging in the first place. It might have unwittingly caused me to go through a temporary crisis, but it has its usefulness. I got a decent number, so who knows -- I might actually not have to live on the Green next year.
