Hello, my friends! How long has it been?
Don’t answer that; I don’t think I could stomach the truth. I could feel you all screaming for your weekly fill of acerbic commentary from a mile away.
In any case, plenty has happened since our last encounter… lives have been lost, babies been birthed, and the world continues to turn…
But in my own little corner of the world, plenty has occurred as well.
Namely: I turned 25.
Surprisingly, I handled it very well. The Mister and I celebrated my turning a quarter-century old with delicious dinner at a lovely restaurant in Center City.
But weirdly, our waiter looked familiar… And as he began to tell us the specials, I had an eery feeling that had happened before…
This restaurant had only recently opened, and we are not ones to go out on the town often.
Then suddenly it dawned on me. One quick question about the waiters’ resume confirmed it: He had been our waiter exactly five years earlier, at a different restaurant in Center City, where the Mister and I went to celebrate my 20th birthday.
It was memorable because a) the waiter was a weirdo, and b) it was our first foray into overpriced city dining, where we gawked at the prices and discreetly tried to order a glass of wine before anyone could ask for ID.
But here we are, five years later. Same place. Doing the same thing.
Thus, despite our delicious dinner, fabulous conversation, and a legitimately-purchased bottle of Cheval Noir, I later devolved into a mental freak-out zone.
I’m twenty-five. TWENTY. FIVE.
But my problem isn’t really a fear of aging. In fact, I look forward to being a silver-haired 60-something, puttering around a garden and wearing socks with sandals because I stopped giving a shit years ago.
No, what really bothered me is that I’m 25, and I’ve got nothing to show for it.
For comparison, here’s a brief list of things that other people have accomplished by age 25:
- Tracy Chapman won three Grammies
- Bill Gates cofounded Microsoft
- Mary Shelley wrote “Frankenstein”
- Helen Keller earned a bachelor’s degree (while deaf and blind, obv.)
- Michelangelo carved the Pietà
- Steve Jobs co-founded Apple Computer
- Margaret Mead traveled to Samoa to undertake the most famous anthropological study ever
- Orson Welles wrote, directed, and starred in Citizen Kane
- Jane Austen wrote “Pride and Prejudice”
- James Watson helped to determine that DNA was a double helix
- Felix Mendelssohn composed twelve symphonies, and wrote the overture to “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”
- Ashton Kutcher starred in “Dude, where’s my car?”, capturing the hearts and minds of Americans everywhere, and forever changing the cinematic landscape
That’s a pretty fucking impressive list.
Thus the basis for my freak out.
But then I wondered how the waiter must feel; Five years later. Still a waiter.
So clearly, on occasion I’m aware that there are other people in the world, and I am not alone in my concerns.
So I put off my total lack of accomplishments to enjoy the rest of the month, reserving my bouts of sobbing over mediocrity for the next birthday.
To be honest, I probably would have wallowed quite a bit more if I wasn’t so damn busy lately.
And one of the consequences of this busy new lifestyle (I am, afterall, now a working gal) is that it leaves little time for blogging.
But fear not, a series of posts will (hopefully) soon follow, documenting my exciting (read: utterly mundane) life as of lately, but until then, here’s a cat in a basket: