Twenty-Three
Today is a day of great historical importance. The 15th March 44BC is known as the “Ides of March” and saw Julius Caesar brutally murdered. Perhaps more significant is the 15th March 1992 when yours truly clumsily entered this world. The fact that I nearly strangled myself in the umbilical chord is probably a good metaphor for my life- trying really hard but ultimately failing without the input of someone else.
23 is an interesting age. It’s the first time I’ve truly felt like an adult. Society dictates the age of adulthood, 18 here in the UK. But for the vast majority of people that’s rubbish. I don’t think you can really call yourself an adult when you are a student. Essentially you are still at school but with an opportunity to make more irresponsible decisions because you no longer live with your parents. It varies for everyone, but I think true adulthood is when you are working full time and in theory could live completely independently.
When you Google the number 23 you get lots of things like this but also quite a few photos of Miley Cyrus, for reasons that I didn’t dare investigate further.
I have now reached that stage. I am a proper grown-up, and frankly that sucks. Being a grown-up is rubbish. I have actually responsibilities and can’t rely on other people to do everything for me. The trouble is I don’t really know how to be a 23 year-old. What do 23 year olds do for fun?
I suspect a large part of that answer involves nightclubs and alcohol which I find odd. I’ve become pretty much tee-total over the last year. It’s not through choice and I’ll happily drink but I just don’t end up doing it. When I started university I went out clubbing fairly regularly, a few times a week, but that has gradually reduced down to such an extent I haven’t been out clubbing since May last year.
I suppose another alternative for many 23 year olds is sport. I don’t play any sport whatsoever and apart from some basic competence at badminton have no sporting skills. There is no way I am ever likely to be much of a sportsman.
I suddenly feel very old. Obviously, 23 is not that old in the grand scheme of things. I very much hope that have at least 70 more years to discuss inane things on the internet in. But I feel like am living the life of a middle-aged man, and a dull one at that.
I have a real sense of stagnation at the moment. Life is fairly good, there’s nothing horrendously bad that I have to complain about. But equally there is nothing particularly outstanding that I can share. My life feels like Groundhog Day, except with less Sonny and Cher.
Bill Murray escaped by sleeping with Andie MacDowell, although I could never quite work out the logic behind that. I can only concede that maybe MacDowell’s character was some sort of evil witch- perhaps a weather witch given her apparent occupation. I think I may have drifted off what I was talking about here. Here’s a picture of groundhog for fun whilst I re-find my thread:
That’s better. The point I was about to make was that a work colleague asked me first if I have any children and then if I have a partner. I felt very awkward about saying no to having a partner. I’m beginning to get to a stage where being single is quite embarrassing. I’m sure there are plenty of twenty-three year olds out there who are also single (although where they are all hiding is beyond me) but such a large number of people my age are in long-term relationships or even married. I have no Andie MacDowell character around to help me escape from my own personal Groundhog Day. Perhaps that’s not the answer and I suspect Groundhog Day is not the best place to look for life guidance.
Either way, no answer to actually progressing with my life is forthcoming. Day after day rolls by with very little to distinguish one day from another. My birthday is a reminder that I am gradually aging yet life is not moving on. I wish nothing more than a change for the better.
So anyway, happy birthday to me etc. I’ll try and post something more upbeat next week!
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