- When I get out of the shower, I slip into a robe to put my makeup on.
- I’m asking for a coffee maker for my birthday.
- I’d rather stay in on a Saturday night than go out. Wait, who am I kidding… I’ve always been like that.
- Researching companies and looking into different industries for a career is a daily task.
- If I see a city mentioned in a newspaper article, I automatically add it to my list of places to look into for living and working.
- I’ve picked out names for a dog that doesn’t exist yet. Which is even weirder considering I’ve never been a dog person before!
- I can call and talk to someone on the phone and order at a restaurant (more) comfortably.
… I wanna be famous.
Uh, just kidding.
(By the way- if that song isn’t stuck in your head right now… I give you major props.)
A little eighth grader emailed me this past week asking a bunch of questions. One of which was what I wanted to be when I grow up…. “even though [I’m] a grown up already.” Up until recently, the thought of being a grown up has been not only terrifying, but an event way far out into the future. Now… it’s sort of comforting.
It’s not even that I’m doing these seemingly grown up things. It’s not even that I have more and more grey hairs every day. It’s not even that I don’t wear bows or tie ribbons in my hair. It’s not even that I’m turning 22 in September. I actually feel older. My bedroom at home now feels like a museum of my childhood… in a creepy kind of way.
My six year old neighbor demands to know who my boyfriend is and when I’m getting married and when I’m having babies. I am, after all, turning 22 which is practically ancient in six year old terms. Poor Abby was so disappointed that I have neither a boyfriend nor plans for marriage.
So “when I grow up” is pretty much right around the corner. Less than one year from now I’ll be a graduate (if everything goes as planned) of Georgetown and a member of the Real World.
What do I want to do?
No idea…. yet.