23 going on 24

When I turned the old, harried age of 23, I was in a state of disbelief. When and, more importantly, how did this happen? 23 always sounded like one of those imaginary years... those years you see on your older cousins with coffee breath and collared dress shirts from J-Crew. 19- you're still a baby, 20 is the end of your teens, 21 is the year of liberation, 22 is symmetrical so I could forgive it. But 23? It's an age of futility. People consoled me by saying "It's a magical year... it's your 'Jordan' Year!" I didn't really find comfort in that since I'm not a huge fan of basketball, but hey- I tried to make the best of it.

When I was younger, back in my careless grade school days, I could hardly even imagine being this old (I'm the kind of person who doesn't see too far in the future). And even if I tried, I would imagine myself to be a completely different person- a true "grown up" adult... you know the kind who engages in weighty conversations about politics and finances, the kind that is at least a head taller with a full head of sleek, Pantene Pro-V hair, perfectly articulate speech, and a certain aged grace. In my head, I pictured myself to be like a Waverly from the Joy Luck Club, except probably not as pretty.

Though I pay the monthly bills and try my best to keep up with current events (my ever-growing pile of unread subscriptions of the LA Times and the New Yorker), I feel like a kid playing "grown-up." And the sad thing is, it's as transparent as if I were a 7-year-old walking around, wearing my mom's lipstick and high heels. Sometimes, when I'm bored and sifting through my wallet, I stare at my checkbook in awe and think "wow, I'm all growed up." I know nobody really carries checkbooks these days, but I remember when I was younger, I would always see my mom writing checks and thought how fun it would be when I was old enough to fill out my own checks. Though now, it's not really all that fun- more of a nuisance than anything.


Also when I was a kid, I remember one of my favorite board games being "The Game of LIFE." There was something so sequential and fulfilling about going through the various stages of life (e.g. getting a car, picking your career, buying a house, planning your retirement). I loved picking my little candy-colored automobile, putting my little pink figurine inside the vehicle (along with my blue husband) and strolling along while mapping out my life. But oh Milton Bradley, how you've deceived me~ this little simulated game is far from life as I know it. Or as I'm currently experiencing it. There is no clear path that is lit up for me, no distinct landmarks/time table of when I should be doing what I'm doing.

And here I am- 23 years old (though two people yesterday told me I don't look a day older than 18... oddly, I don't think I'm old enough to take that as a compliment) and still uncertain about pretty much every area of my life (career, love, spiritual, etc.) Maybe if I stopped drinking juice cartons and wearing Hello Kitty, I'll miraculously grow into a "real adult"... Who knows... Maybe in my Kobe year.