Trying to get my brain cells to construct words for a decent blog post right now is such a daunting task when I’d rather crawl under the covers and binge-watch anime. But because it has been customary for me to rant about “getting a year older” on this particular day of December, pardon the un-finesse and bewildering tirade about the complexities attach to “adulting” which you are about to read. You are more than welcome to either click the “X” button on the right corner of your screen or continue to deduce the logic behind the strings of words I am trying to formulate. Even yours truly is having trouble turning the content of this post into something inspirational, comprehensive and worth reading.
Being a few years closer to hitting the three-zero zone is becoming dreadful especially if you haven’t put a single check mark beside those “things to do before I turn thirty” on your bucket list. A friend of mine asked about my age yesterday, and I unconsciously made the mistake of making myself one year older than my actual age. By the time we went on our separate ways, I realized that something was off about the information I gave him. I mentally did the Math, and I realized that I just made myself a year older, albeit unknowingly. I like to delude myself right now that barely surviving nine, grueling shifts with no decent day off in between sets was the culprit, thus, explained my mentally confused self on that particular day. However, the fact is that I stopped counting the years after I hit twenty-five. Nobody wants to be constantly reminded about getting old after all.
The impact of becoming older and how it changes a person’s personality and perspectives throughout the years is undeniable. They say our own experiences in life can give us the confidence and courage to take risks. This is probably true. Confessing to someone and being rejected with subtlety by the words “it’s cool” did not suck the life out of me. In fact, it made me learn something about myself and the things I am capable of if I like someone. Do I regret doing it? Not really. I shrug my shoulders with disinterest nowadays because I did not lose an arm or a leg from breaking a societal norm. This experience at least gave me something to tell to people when they say my standards are “too high” or that I am “too picky” when it comes to dating. The world is not going to end if someone chips away your pride or gives your heart few splinters to live with. Behind those failures and rejections are invaluable lessons which definitely become handy if new opportunities come along the way.
Getting older involves different formulas of maturity and underlying responsibilities whether you like it or not. Your world no longer revolves around partying until dawn, getting wasted in the club, thinking about what clothes to wear the next day and stressing about your unrequited crushes. Having a decent career, paying debts and bills, gaining unwanted lbs here and there, surviving relationships and heartbreak, having babies and raising a family of your own, and enduring unsolicited criticisms for being single from the people around you become the “adulting” norms (Ayeh!). That behind these colossal changes and responsibilities is the courage to continue living with fervour. You learn to live with the audacity of not caring about what others think of you. At the end of the day, handling life with vigor and Anticipation and surviving these adversaries is what matters in this so-called adult life.