1988 was kind of a big deal.
We got Dunk-A-Roos, Sega Genesis, Prozac, Wild Cherry Pepsi, and Koosh. Haley Joel Osment spawned and Adele was dropped in from the heavens on a . The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles deservedly won an award at the first Kids’ Choice Awards. We kicked off World Aids Day and Pi Day–3.14…, what?!
But 25 years ago today, some particularly rad things were going on.
In Tulsa, Zac Hanson and the Hanson family were celebrating Zac’s 3rd birthday. Americans were psyched about the upcoming videotape release of “E.T. – The Extra Terrestrial.” They had UB40’s hit “Red, Red Wine” stuck in their heads. And somewhere in Montgomery County, Maryland, baby me had flipped upside down in the womb and was getting C-sectioned out.
I was born with long phalanges. My cheeks were chipmunky and they just ballooned and reflected light, and my ears stuck out so much you’d think my real father was Dumbo (I know it isn’t because my true father is Emilio Estevez). I was hideous. And I just got more and more hideous and round and pokey outey all over until all the sudden it stopped and I was a vision. But that didn’t happen for 21 or so years.
Me, as a baby. With my grandma.
As of this day, I’ve officially been alive for 9,103 days. That’s a lot of days. If I had saved a nickel every day starting at age 3, I’d have $401.75 today. But I didn’t do that. In fact, I haven’t done much of anything on most of my 9,103 days alive. I spend a lot of time doing nothing. Seriously? I’ve had over 9,000 days to perfect the art of civilized eating and I still stab myself in the face with a fork sometimes? I consider quitting my job and working at PetCo because… pets, man! I might need to reflect.
I’m having a pretty typical Gen Y quarter-life crisis. I have $283,473,383.17 in student loans, I’m not sure I chose the right major, I worry a lot about “intellectual fulfillment,” I want a work-life balance without real work, I’m currently in two jobs (one in which I’m underworked and underpaid; one where I’m overworked and underpaid). I can’t make decisions that require commitment because I don’t know when and where I’ll yell “fuck it!” and start over. But there are some cool things about this age:
- I’m in that awkward liminal space where I fit in anywhere; I could go play Bingo with the olds, or I could hit up a bar and do shots
- I am so much more confident in my body than I was in my teens, definitely, but also my early 20s. And not because I look better, although I do
- I can still move home if I just decide I miss my mom and, because of the economy, I can blame it on being “poor” (I’m actually not that poor, but being poor is kind of en vogue right now and taking naps with mom is not)
- I don’t care as much about what other people think or are doing. When I was in college, I always wondered if I was missing out on something fun & exciting going on out there and felt awkward if I was the only one not drinking. Now I just kind of do what I feel like doing (which is also bad because I’m usually in a comfort zone)
All these things make it likely that 25 (or maybe 26) will be the year of “fuck it!” And that’s really all I came here to say. 🙂