Last week, I was told I am unrecognizable from my college graduation picture. This weekend, my grandma told me I looked “older and bigger.” (Considering I haven’t grown in height since the end of 8th grade, “bigger” can’t be a good thing.) At the past six bars/restaurants/liquor stores/airplanes where I’ve ordered a drink, I have not been carded—even when the friend I am with has been asked to show ID. Today, I found myself asking my grandmother for my astrological natal chart—a sure sign that I am freaking out about my newfound oldness. (As she started to explain the chart to me she mentioned that she hadn’t been interested in astrology until “much later in life.”)
Over the past couple of days, I attended a phenomenal conference about how non-profits can hook into new (and old) media to advance their agenda. After one of the sessions, I joined Twitter—not because I actually thought anyone I know over the age of 15 would be on it, but because I have a fascination with Web 2.0 tools and I want to “keep up with the young kids.” After joining, I put it on my MySpace page. So the question is, am I uber up on the latest tech, or uber in denial about my age? Apparently, there is a Facebook group called “Women Who Tech.” If I join a Facebook group that uses the word “technology” as a verb, I am the former…right?
It’s not that I think being older is bad. I certainly appreciate the freedom, the decrease in self-consciousness, the perspective, the experience--I’m definitely glad I no longer live in those previously mentioned college photo days. But being 27 is just not where I imagined it. By the time my grandmother was 27 she had kids and was living in
1 comment:
3 years til 30. I am here to tell you that 30 is great so far. :)
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