get off my lawn!
It was midnight on my 24th birthday, and there was a party going on.
Not that the two events were related though. The party was in the building across the street, and I was in my bed, thinking about how I really needed to buy thicker pillows that would block out sounds better when I put them over my head. I had worked all day, studied for an impending exam in my little remaining time, and was trying to get some rest before I did it again the next day. Have these people no respect for their neighbors?! I asked myself. And as soon as the thought was formed, I knew what had happened: I had crossed a threshold and officially entered the world of…maturity.
I guess I’d known it was coming for a while. I have developed a “bedtime,” as I tend to become unpleasant after midnight. I wake up early enough that I can still say “good morning,” and not wonder if it wouldn’t be more appropriate to say “good afternoon” or “good day”. Gone are the days when I would jump on any invitation to hit the bars, regardless of the classes/exams/papers I had to prepare for the next day. Like a responsible adult, I have apparently begun to make decisions about evening activities based not on drink specials, but on what I’d planned for the following day. Sleep and operating coherently seem to have taken priority over $2 drafts til 2am. Oh and don’t even ask me about the last time I went to a club.
So yes, my lifestyle has become rather adult, and it’s especially striking here in Italy. Just looking at the education system explains a lot. Public universities here are just that; public–as in, they give an opportunity for nearly anyone with the will and the brainpower to get a degree. There’s no tuition, just some fees that are based on a family’s income. A typical student might pay around €400 per year, which, when I consider how much my own “public” university cost, I can see why they have no particular hurry to leave school. Plus the job market here, especially in the southern areas, is known to be difficult even at the best of times. During recession periods it only gets worse, and young people might extend their studies (and their periods of dependency on mamma and pappa’s euros) well into their late twenties. That’s why when people find out that I’ve already finished my Bachelor’s degree and have been working and living on my own for about two years now, they automatically assume I’m about 4-5 years older than what I really am.
While that might have been a good thing when I was under 21 and trying to get into bars with my sister’s driver’s license, now I wonder what people will think 4-5 years from now. It makes me think of one evening last year, when I went out with some friends to celebrate someone’s birthday. I had only met the birthday boy once or twice before that, so I didn’t know him very well yet. He asked me to guess how old he was turning, and I gave what I thought was a very accurate guess–38. (For future reference… never give an accurate guess.) As soon as the number flew out of my big dumb mouth, I saw everyone else gesturing wildly in an attempt to tell me to lower my number. His face fell as he gave me the real answer–32. I don’t think I need to explain how much of a jerk I felt like, but if it helps, I feel pretty sure the same thing will start happening to me soon. I’ll go out with girlfriends my age, and people will ask them why they brought their mother out. I’ll start buying shoes based on their orthopedic integrity instead of how cute they are, and I’ll pay for things with lots of small change. People will even start giving up their seat to me on the bus–although actually, that would be okay.
When that happens, I won’t just put pillows over my ears to drown out the neighbor’s party. I’ll come to the window in my robe and slippers and shout at them to turn down the damn racket, people are trying to sleep here! And don’t give me any of that sass, I have half a mind to call your parents!
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Tags: birthday, mature, old, party, work
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