We let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know…
This lyric from Arcade Fire successfully illustrates many emotions that have been surfacing from past weeks. It is quite odd to be honest, I find myself becoming nostalgic…
Over the past few weeks, circumstances (both controlled and spontaneous) have been prodding me to realize that I am no longer eighteen. My sister once told me that the transition from eighteen to twenty-one would be tremendous-
not small-
not trivial-
tremendous.
As I have bridged that three year gap now, events from these past weeks have shown how much I have grown out of that stage of my life, where at eighteen, I was restless and carefree. It is funny to me, today I had a conversation amongst friends where we all talked about who we were in high school. I did not particularly like high school, but looking back I liked my style, my rhetoric, my tenacity, and my ambiguity for most everything I did. As a result, I am now twenty-one and I lack style(much of it comes from my floor) My rhetoric has become monosyllabic(my major requires me to look at many fancy words a day, so I resolve to speak without making my jaw hurt) I have become quite passive and reclusive(when it comes to arguments and debates) and I now laugh at people’s ten page proposals to change John Brown University(I have neither the energy or time anymore to even write eight pages)
I have become the opposite of everything I once identified myself to be. I am a reclusive bag lady that has scoliosis with the vocabulary of a ten-year-old- who doesn’t vote. Okay that is harsh and I do not mean it- but all of this to say-
Tonight I realized that I have become twenty-one. I have become someone who no longer likes to hotbox cars and go skinny dipping at one in the morning most nights. I want to change the world but I also want to understand subordinate clauses. I would like to sound intelligent with all the beautiful words I am learning, but I would rather enjoy the guilty pleasures of what little words I can get away with before I have to get a real job. I desperately want to be inspired by Nylon Magazine models who wear the latest fashions but I would rather get the 40 minutes of extra sleep that I lost four hours before my head hit the pillow.
I am growing up. I am learning that food is more important than hair dryers or an article of clothing. I am learning that quality time with people sometimes looks like sitting in your car at Sonic at happy hour. I am learning that looking at internet sites for jobs this summer is better than catching up with people on facebook for two hours. I am learning that the library is actually comfortable opposed to my friend’s house watching a movie.
Slowly, I am realizing that I am nostalgic. I do wish to be eighteen most days. I do wish that I could go into a department store and drop two hundred dollars with one of my best friends. I do wish I could be on top of the transcendental world I once ruled three years ago. I do wish I could read Keroac again and drop everything for a while.
But. I am twenty-one. and I am proud to be this age. I am proud that I am growing older and I can be more frugal, less dangerous, more selective, less naiive, and more focused on whatever is in front of me. At eighteen I used to think I could do whatever and be whatever- at twenty-one I realize I can be whatever- an English major- and do whatever- Tonight I actually go to spend time with my boyfriend and write on this blog.
When it comes down to it, life is about seasons. My friend told me that life is comprised of four seasons. Spring is when you are born- to twenty where you are in Summer- to Fall where you are forty and Winter where you are one hundred.
I am in summer now- and that encourages me. I have shed my training wheels and now I am riding a bike. I am constantly scraping my knees and learning how to work this thing- but I am content doing it. Yes, there are many times where I am nostalgic, but mostly I am grateful. I am grateful that I can be part of this season of life where I am changing and growing into a person who can not only drink, but decide other big things like apartments, jobs, etc. My adventures no longer look like skinny dipping, but they come with their own set of fun. Last week I went cosmic bowling and this week I have no idea what I will do. Regardless, I am thankful my nostalgia points me to summer in the end- where I am just trying on a new set of shoes.
