I came to a realization over the long weekend that I truly am an adult. Sure, I’ve been ‘technically’ and ‘legally’ an adult since my 18th birthday, but I never REALLY felt like one. I am still in school, I have no kids, I am not married or even engaged, I don’t own a house, I don’t have a real job, my parents still give me Easter baskets full of candy, clearly these things are not equated to adulthood. One event in particular made me see that I really am what small children would call “old”: I yelled at a punk kid out the window of a house.
It started out innocently enough, with Matt’s family gathering at his sister’s for Easter dinner on Sunday. We ate and drank, sat around talking about nothing in particular. Then it happened. I was in the kitchen doing dishes and looked out the window to see a ‘punk kid’ messing with a tree in the backyard. So I slid the window open and yelled, “Hey! Go away!” and then slid it shut, continued with the dishes, grumbling about ‘kids these days’.
When I was 18 or 19, or even 20, I probably would’ve yelled at that kid, but it would have had different motives behind it. This time I was seriously mad that the kid was messing with the tree, I wasn’t just trying to be a wise ass.
Then I REALLY got thinking. It’s been happening slowly but surely over the last few years. I hate the music on the radio (could be legitimate, Saskatoon radio stations play the same 10 songs on repeat, except Wired 96, who mashes all 10 songs together and plays them simultaneously), I have no idea who Justin Bieber is or who the Jonas brothers are, and every kid has stupid hair, useless hobbies and annoying slang. Matt’s niece laughs at the things I ask her, and I think I have become that cooky aunt who will eventually be committed and never heard from again. I only learned who Zac Efron was in January (for the sake of a blog post) and I never go out anymore. And the other night when we DID leave the safety of our shithole to go to the 8th Street Dairy Queen, standing there for 5 minutes made me want to get my tubes tied. What kind of parents pump their kids full of sugary ice cream at 8:30 on a Sunday night? But then I see the occasional cute and well-behaved baby and I go into baby fever, vowing to get knocked up ASAP and have no less than 1 000 000 babies. Luckily logic prevails in Jacquie’s world, and I power through these thoughts [relatively] baby-free (we still have several kittens around).
Anyway, in this, my 24th year of life, I am an adult. Although I do none of the adult things, and will still pullover to steal a pylon off the side of the road, my mindset is such that I have become significantly older than ‘kids these days’ and I hate them all, especially those that are in, on or around my lawn.