This weekend was a much-needed breather before the real stuff starts next week. As somebody who loves movies and the television, I take every moment I have with the remote and TV seriously. That’s how I spent the weekend, sleeping in, eating and watching my shows. I didn’t know how tired I was until I fell asleep on Friday night. But of course, this weekend has gone by too fast, trying to catch up with friends, get ready for the week after and attend to all that I couldn’t attend to during the week. I don’t know if it’s just me but the house seems brighter this weekend.
This is why I like being busy because all the holidays start to feel worth it. You begin to take holidays seriously. The best part was that I got to do what I do best, lie on the couch and watch YouTube videos. I am ready for tomorrow when I’ll have to drag myself out of bed in the morning, try and navigate my bedroom when I’m still half asleep and go to work trying my best to look awake. Last night I realised when I do get a full-time job, it’s going to be at least thirty years of my life that I have to do the same thing every day. I know there will be trips often but the majority of the time it’s going to be like this. I tried to shake off the dread but once a thought strikes it’s very hard to put it away.
I don’t know how my parents do it. A week into this and I’m already complaining, but my parents have never broken character and thrown a fit. My Mom never yelled, “Five minutes more!” in the morning when she had to wake up. Now I understand why they reminisce about their childhood days so much. Being an adult is overrated. But at some point you have to face it, I looked at all my clothes the other day, as a serial hoarder I have clothes that are many years old even though I have long since grown out of them. I have grown in height, age, and weight correspondingly.
It’s funny how you never notice age until you have physical manifestations to remind you of how many years you have lived. We celebrate our birthday year after year only noticing our age for a split second before going back to celebrating. Yesterday I met one of the two of my best friends, the kind that remain your friend even when they know you are a pain and are super weird. She pointed out to me that I’ve been wearing the same spectacles for the past six years, and it was only then that I realised the odd fact. Unwittingly I’ve held on to certain things. The spectacles apart from my diary entries from 2012 are the only reminder of my 15-year-old self just short of turning sixteen.
The eyes behind the old blue frames though have seen a lot since then. Now I feel like time is catching up to me. It sounds rich to say it when I am only 21 but it’s true. It’s only now dawning on me that I am in the third decade of my life. I still don’t feel it when I look in the mirror, I still look similar to what I was six years ago, minus the acne and braces. All these years since I turned sixteen I have been ignoring the time I spent growing up. I was yearning to grow up so much, that I forgot that I was growing up, I just didn’t notice it. Even when I did notice, I’d lull myself into believing that it’s still not enough.
Stereotypes are funny, for every age we have a corresponding image in mind. If I say, adult, you’ll probably think of mature, serious, responsible perhaps formal clothes. If I say, teenager, an image will suddenly pop into your head and it’s only natural. There’s nothing wrong with stereotypes, but because of these stereotypes, we end up chasing the wrong things. I’m chasing after my stereotype of what I think is the ideal adult, even though at 21 I can only be this, not what I think I ought to be. I know I’m going to make the same mistake again, tomorrow I’ll still want to be that stereotype. But for now, I can preach to myself. One day when I fall into the same trap I hope I read this.
So I’m still going to groan tomorrow into my pillow when I have to wake up, still get excited when I see chocolate on the shelf at a store and tap my mother’s shoulder when we go shopping to get her permission to put it in the cart. I am still going to wear my earphones when I am angry at my parents and storm out of the room. I am still going to pretend I’m receiving an award in front of my mirror, I am still going to daydream during important conversations, and I’m still going to ask my Dad to pick me up or drop me if I miss the bus. I’m going to milk the advantages of being my parent’s daughter for as long as they’re willing to entertain me.