I'm how old?

Well the rheumatism hasn’t exactly set in and no Social Security checks, yet. But, I’m another year older.

When exactly do you begin to feel “adult”? I started college five years later than most because of the Army. Even so, when I was a freshman in college I felt like little more than a senior in Highschool. When I was in the Army I felt like a kid in summer camp. I got lucky… no bullets were flying at me when I was in the service, so mostly it was a four year paid expedition to the “man” scouts.

Needless to say, here I am at 34 and I’m wondering what the qualifications are to feel adult.

I guess I don’t watch cartoons anymore. That’s going to be a surprise to some out there who knew me well to be glued to the Saturday morning cartoon extravaganza every week for hours on end. But now I see a cartoon on TV and I wonder how fast I can make it over to the Discovery Science channel or baring that, a quick jump to Law and Order.

I don’t “play” anymore, either. Friends and I will shop together, hunt together, or even hang out with one another. But we don’t play. I do play with my dog, but any dog owner will understand that the human mostly stands there and throws objects while it is the DOG who does all the playing. Sleepovers are out, too; I haven’t had a sleep over in years.

I own a house; ownership should convey adulthood, right? If you think it through, however, in reality this is just a scam by the banking industry to be the world’s largest rental agent. I pay my “rent” every month to the bank and if I miss my rent payments they evict me and I get nothing in return. After 30 years, and completely out of the generosity of their hearts (and a dollar value triple the asking price) the bank stops charging me rent. The government, however, does not.

I work every day. That’s pretty adult in nature, too. But in reality it’s only a couple more hours a day than going to school was. I don’t get summers off from work but I do get vacation. What with the paycheck, that’s a pretty fair trade off.

I have noticed as I get older that I start to sound more and more like Andy Rooney. If you don’t believe me go back and read this again with his trademark inflections. Scary, isn’t it? I can almost hear him reading my blog back to me now.

I guess the last hurdle, the last bastion of pre-adulthood to crumble, will be children. Maybe that’s what I’m missing to truly feel my age. In the mean time, if anyone asks, I’m only 26.

:j