It's my birthday, according to facebook, and apparently I'm twenty. This came as very strange and unsettling news, and I'm still not quite sure what to make of it. I don't feel like I'm twenty, I certainly don't look like I'm twenty (deli clerks still think my learner's permit is fake when I try to buy cigarettes), and I'm frankly struggling to think of a single think I've done over the last five or ten years of my life. I believe I went to high school, but I may very well have not. It's all kind of a blur.
Today has been refreshingly uneventful, which does, I suppose, speak to the fact that I have changed somewhat since previous June thirtieths. Two years ago, for example, I recall that an anonymous friend of mine and I bought several bottles of wine in the afternoon, and after getting sufficiently tipsy, bought two plastic swords from a costume shop and had an hour-long duel around the streets of Greenwich Village. In previous years, as well, I've always had a massive party planed, and I would usually spend the day of my birthday advertising the event and acquiring sufficient booze. I am having a little party for myself next weekend, but I plan on it being a little more low-key and a little less stressful than previous years.
I've resolved, anyway, that today should actually be my eighteenth birthday, since going backwards in time is considerably more fashionable than going forwards. This gives me college to look forward to, and a very long list of exciting things that I want to accomplish during my last two years of being a teenager. I hope I get them all done!
It also means that twenty years from now, I'm going to be negative two. This is a very exciting prospect.
-Matthew
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