It strikes me as funny
that maturity, wisdom, and intelligence
are all things attributed to age
. I (according to this time clock) just turned 19. . .and I don't feel any smarter
, wiser, or more mature then I did yesterday. I still weigh 126 pounds(which means my butt hasn't grown to titanic proportions
, and my boobs didn't have a sudden growth spurt
), and I don't see any wrinkles
in my reflection on the monitor
. . .so I really don't LOOK
any older either. I suspect
that I will still do the same things, work the same job
, and hang out with the same people. . .so I must not be having a midlife crisis
Does that mean that age is irrelevant?
Apparently not. I mean. . .look at all the things we slap an "age limit" on. You can't drive until you are 15 and have taken driver's ed, or 13 if you live on a farm and need to drive the equipment. You aren't SUPPOSED to be able to watch Rated R movies until you are 16. You can't gamble, vote, write a will, donate body parts or blood, legally smoke or chew, or work in/ go to a strip club until you are 18. When you are 21 you can *gasp* drink. . . (age never stopped any of us on that one).
Think about it. . . it is downright weird.
We spend all of this time limiting the things we can do... and ultimately it doesnt even matter. How many of us actually listen to the rules? If none of us listen to the rules. . .why bother making them?
Spouting off about good morals and ethics hasn't made a dent in the number of people who make it a daily goal to thwart the upholders of "justice".
I guess my point is that what you can do based on your age is an upside-down bell shaped curve. When you are really little, you can cry, pee, and crap in front of anyone, and they won't care. . .in fact, they expect it of you. When you get a little older, you can still cry. . . and you can speak, so that introduces arguing to your repertoire. Then you start entering adulthood, and the world falls apart. . .you gotta abide by the rules or you are in deep shit.
After adulthood comes a more blessed stage. . .it is called old age. . . and you are again returned to the advantages of child hood. You can cry, pee, and crap in front of anyone, you can also argue, curse, and insult. . . but now you have the added joy of being able to wack people with your walker. Ahh the joys of senility. Maybe it is worth waiting for. . .
but wouldn't it be nice if you could do all that in the prime of your life?