It passes by super quick. A cliche, this is true. But it still feels absolutely foreign to say the words, "I'm 23" after someone wishes me a happy birthday with the dreaded (another cliche), "how old are you, today?"
And to continue with the cliches, no one really likes getting old. I've had twenty three fuh-reaking birthdays. Of course, I don't remember the earlier ones and my 21st birthday is slightly hazy (seriously, who lets their friend order eggs from a Shari's to sober up? major fail) but a birthday is still a birthday and I have had 23 of them. (Which brings up something funny, I feel like I stopped keeping track of my own age after I turned 18. I'm not sure why, but when I was 22, I was telling people I was 20, etc... maybe prepping for later in life? wah wahh.)
Regardless, my 23rd birthday was by far, the best. I mean my fifth birthday in Georgia when my parents rented out an old dinner movie theater that played The Swan Princess just for me on the big screen was a close-almost-tie... but I'm letting Ian take the win on major spoilage this year. I am going to keep all the disgustingly cute details to myself because quite frankly, I don't think anybody particularly cares to hear them, but all this hub-bub inside my head leading up to this celebration of another giant step up my own metaphorical hill should be shared.
People either love birthdays or they hate them. It's true! I'm quite wishy-washy myself and I'm sure it's common for people to get excited for some birthdays, dread others, and kind of be 'eh' towards the rest. I remember being excited to no longer be a teenager, excited to be 21, and excited to be not 21 any longer because all non-peers give you this look and you can literally see the fear in their eyes as they picture you at parties twerking like Miley Cyrus. And this year... I was really pretty 'eh' towards turning 23. Besides the fact that I'm not too fond of the number (weird right? but I played sports. Numbers are significant) I couldn't really pinpoint it at first.
But it's because I am growing up, guys.
Cheers to entering the second year of living in my apartment by myself where I have essentially turned into my father. He is the kind of guy who gets up at 5 am every Saturday to clean my parents rather large house from top to bottom. He dusts, vacuums, then shampoos the carpet, swifters the floor, sometimes wax the hardwood, and much more (but I don't know all the exact details because I refuse to get up that early on a Saturday.) He also cleans the liter boxes, feeds the cats, and does a load of laundry every single day. This man is a machine.
Besides my personal conflict with my non-existent dishwasher, I am a clean freak. And besides the fact that Ian taunts me about putting the toilet paper on the roll... and I guess if we're being completely honest, sometimes I end up falling asleep, snuggling with my clean-soon-to-be-folded-laundry. (Hey, I have a queen size bed, there's still plenty of room..) Alright, fine. I'm not perfectly clean. But I love cleaning and it makes me happy. I like things in a particular manner. Consequently, messes stress me out more. I never fully understood my father's cranky frustration as he dropped five pairs of my random stranded shoes that I had left aimlessly about the house, until now. I have issues leaving my shower curtain open or a random cup of water by my couch. Similarly to something my dad would have a pet peeve about. And this, totally freaks me out. I even have routines set, like my mother. I plan out what I'm doing for that day... even if it is my day off. It's nearly impossible for me to play the day by ear or lay in bed without an agenda.
I always knew I was organized and yadda yadda, but when did I gradually turn into this adult?
Getting older also bleeds into my academic life too. I have always enjoyed learning and being dedicated to my studies... but I am do the point that I walk across campus and no longer see the point of a campus social life. I've always been one to not regularly dress up ( I roll out of bed fifteen minutes before I need to leave) and lately I've been putting on makeup to not scare away residents at my new job or my team members from class projects (I literally have group work in ALL of my classes. And some groups change halfway through the semester which means I will have approximately eight different teams this semester. Mind will explode.) So all of these cute end-of-the-summer sorority outfits are super tempting but bottom-line, I'd rather be sleeping. Oh yeah, sleeping has been an issue too because of my new job. Since working at a 24 Hour Desk, I am having to force myself to take naps at three in the afternoon or otherwise Wednesday I go 20 hours straight, and Thursday 22 hours straight. But did I mention I love my job?!? I'm literally getting paid to sit and do my homework or watch Grey's Anatomy. (Which is pathetic on my part because I just started watching it in August and I am almost done with season four). And honestly, I am great at being a night owl. It's just the whole getting up and going to class that makes me feel wonky.
So as a result, it is a blessing that I love my classes. Apart from having to awkwardly explain that I'm a second year senior to all the quizzical eyebrow raises thinking "uh, what's wrong with her?" I really couldn't be any happier. I'm also in the new IBC Curriculum, meaning I am in a class or two that is designed for freshman/sophomore level. It's a nice refresher for the business classes I have already taken and then it is also still good to have some upper division classes that keep challenging me further. I also have a ridiculously interesting social psychology research class which I am quickly learning should actually be a part of a management degree....but I guess that's a different curriculum revamp, haha! (please, no more U of I!) And I guess the reason I am rambling on about loving my class schedule is because I am finally settled back into school, less anxious to graduate. This whole summer my mentality of school was negative; thinking I will never graduate, never live real life, always be doing long distance with my boyfriend, always waiting for this new IBC Curriculum to be determined... when silly me, all of that is out of my hands. No sense in stressing over something I don't have control over and in fact, I actually... enjoy. (Yep, that NHS nerd from high school).
so guys, what I'm getting at... is I'm old.
I clean to be happy, I love school, I enjoy my new job, and I sleep whenever I can. I do visit my parents weekly; either dinner or crashing on their couch between classes (their house is closer) or if I'm super drained, my dad's office. Yep, don't even make it off campus. This is only week two of classes and I cannot wait for the weekend for the sole reason I will have excess amount of time to clean, do homework, and sleep.
When did I grow up again?
