I just went around to various networking sites and such in order to update my profiles. Somehow in the midst of the month of December and the celebrations around the 4th, I realized that I'd forgotten to update everyone on a very important fact.
I'm no longer 24.
Which is of obviously grave importance. It's two and one half decades. A quarter of a century. And somehow, a month (and a week) after achieving this obviously very awesome age, it's just now hitting me.
It's something to do with my birthday being tucked right in the middle of the holiday season. There's so much going on already post-Thanksgiving that it's difficult for folks to get excited about yet another celebration requiring the giving of a gift. (Telling people you accept cash is apparently considered rude.)
And, of course, because we don't make that much money, my birthday present is usually lumped in with my Christmas present. Shortly following Christmas is, of course, the New Year. During all this time, people are painstakingly buying gifts for family members who will only turn around and return those gifts for store credit or hold up the entire customer service line by demanding cash, only to find that you really can't fight company policy.*
*Run. On. Sentence. And I haven't returned gifts. I've watched those lines, though. Yikes, people. Yikes.
So I think it stands to reason that with all that, coupled with the minor interwebz sabbatical I had been taking, I didn't necessarily get that, "Holy shit, I'm 25!" moment until now.
It's weird. There are moments where I feel as though I've seen it all. The world could hold nothing else that could possibly shock me. And then that's usually followed up with, "But I'm only 25!"
Which has led me to a conclusion.
Age ain't nothing but a number. You're only as old as the moment you're currently in is making you feeling. Back away from the cassette player. Don't mark your children's height on the walls. Put on a sparkly unitard and go running through the neighborhood. You'll forever feel like you're 8.