Monday, April 16, 2012

How old am I?

Oh em gee...I am sooooo angsty. You don't even know!
Photo: martinak15 via Flickr

I'm fifteen. Pretty literate for a fifteen year old, huh? Actually I'm much older than fifteen years, but that's how I feel most days. In three months, the number of my age jumps one more and it's one closer to a BIG one. (Sixteen! When I can get my license to drive!!)

Here's what I miss about being one less than driving age:

1- I got to kick my bedroom door closed when I was mad that we weren't having pizza for dinner. Can you imagine what you could muster after your home's appraisal comes in under what you want? Or when the tax bill gets dropped off at the post office by midnight tomorrow?? (Check it out pals, this year we get an extra, extra day for filing! IRS)

2- I could scream about how AWFUL my life was because I wasn't allowed to spend the night at a friend's house. When the physicality of not being 15 shows its face and grey hair, or when the water bill shows up and reveals a slow leak somewhere in this house for the past three months (and right now I'm very, very cold in terms of proximity to said leak...) how badly do I want to be pre-sixteen, instead of that "other" age?

3- I saw my friends every single day. 

4- Other people bought my food, clothes, entertainment and took care of my schedule. Of course, now other people take care of my schedule by taking it UP! Ah, the unmitigated bliss of having one day where someone shuttles you to and from your destinations, and during all the in betweens you got to flop onto your couch and listen to music or watch TV....

Being fifteen might have been the very best time of my life. Except that maybe now is, too. After all:

1- I get to slam doors all I want, because I pay the mortgage for them, and no one is allowed to ground me or take away my laptop and phone!

2- I scream all the freakin' time because I'm an adult and no one is allowed to infringe upon my constitutional right of free expression!

3- Okay, the friends part is difficult due to geography and the fact that most of us sprang forth with children of our own and SOMEHOW their schedules take precedence....

4- I buy my own food, which means no one shoves plates of things I hate in front of me and says I have to eat them. I choose my own entertainment at will. I have to concede on the couch floppage, however. That'd be sweet.

I guess it's a sum zero type of equation. It doesn't matter how old we are, whatever problems we have always seem dire and catastrophic (and to be fair, sometimes they are...) But the teen who's mad and pontificating all over the house about the party you're forbidding is really no different than my adult father who's mad and pontificating all over the house about his perception of his gun rights. What's the diff?

So I guess I'm the "other age" and fifteen. I'll pay some bills and then flop myself onto the couch with a bag of Munchos (gluten free! no trans fats!) and watch The Young and the Restless. Wanna hang out? 

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