Twenty-seven

Today, I turn 27.

You know what happens when you turn 27? I don’t. I think I’m supposed to get all introspective and set life goals and talk about how this isn’t where I pictured myself being when I turned 27. But I can’t do that. When you are younger, you don’t picture yourself as a 27-year-old. Or at least I didn’t. Sure, you might make plans for when you turn 21 (wasty-face), 25 (RENT THAT CAR!) or 30 (figure my life out). But anyone who says, “gah I’m just not where I thought I’d be at 27” is probably a liar.

So instead of bemoaning the fact that I’m not nearly as adult as my parents probably hoped I’d be by now (“oh you don’t hang out with him anymore? I guess you won’t be MARRYING him then”), I’ve decided to get back into writing (see: this blog), get back in the pool, get into the kitchen, have some adventures and maybe make something of myself while my parents can still remember it.

I can’t really blame all this on turning 27. I’m naturally restless and I’m into my third year of living in the same place and being in the same job. Since I graduated college, I haven’t lived anywhere for more than two years. This is beginning to make me long for a new place, new faces, new things to eat and drink and new adventures. As a result, I’m not sure where I’ll be in two months, six months or a year but this time I’m planning on taking you along the way with me and I think we’ll have a good time.

If you’re wondering more about me, come along for the ride. It’ll be fun. In the words of Tracy Jordan, “DAMN STRAIGHT! I’m delightful!”

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