I can't tell you why I'm so excited about my birthday... Maybe because the date is so familiar for me, like an old friend. April 3rd, it's nice to see you again.
I haven't had a birthday party in years, and don't plan on it. Although last year I got surprised by my best friend with a room full of stuffed owls from Goodwill on the midnight of my birthday.
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| My Birthday Owls, chillin' in their new home, the bathroom. |
This birthday is kind of a big one. 20. What does that even mean? I'm still not an adult, but I'm not a teen either. I've always said that I would get a tattoo on (or near) my 20th birthday, as a kind of grown up thing to do. I'm not sure how grown up getting a tattoo really is, but I still enjoy the sentiment. I still don't have a design in mind though, so I'm not stressing.
In taking this new step in to 20-hood I feel like I should recognize what being 19 even meant.
In my 19th year I: finished my first year of college, spent another summer working at PSU, learned a lot about Star Trek, Worked for the paper some more, declared my major, got to share a horrible room with one of my best friends, survived a hellish fall semester (including rough living situation, hard classes, a lonely break, watching lost of 'Friends', a sprained wrist and a rejuvenating visit from my parents), was vegan for a while, kissed a whittie, learned that (basically) I'm straight, Finally went to a news conference in Seattle, became besties with all of my housemates (especially my newest roommate), got the flu, got a job offer on my own merit at the Children's Museum, and got a god-awful haircut which has finally grown out.
Not too shabby, I suppose.
T-2 hours and I'll get to start the adventure of being 20!

You're 11 hours and 29 minutes into being 20, and already you are kicking butt. You wear two decades of life well, Molly! :)
ReplyDeletePS: I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BLOG!
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