I'm a year older - hoohah. It's not physical or chronological age that matters, it's your outlook on life, a point proven way back in high school. My year wasn't the most exicting lot on the planet, especially those in my morning home room. They may have been 16, but already gave off the impression of being well into middle age - no crazy stunts, conversations revolving around duck hunting similar to old men, etc. Heck, I was pretty comfortable as a couch potato.
Ideas I had in high school I'm glad I didn't stick to:
- That I would never, ever live in Toronto
- Fear that by choosing an arts-based residence to live in at university, I'd be stuck with a pile of pretentious creeps
- The whole "too cool to do certain things" mindset most teens fall prey to, however briefly (if I'd stuck to this, wouldn't have so many crazy stories from university, though I'll admit it took a month or two of Arts House to let it go)
University was a release, to see that it was OK to act a little loony. That failing a course was not the end of the world. That there are people out there who are willing to go places to do things, not sit around the house all day. It felt like adolescence and young adulthood had reversed themselves. I wasn't complaining (except that maybe I should have been bolder on the "fessing up to girls I really like" front - live and learn).
28 was a great year...finally saw a large chunk of North America, followed through on keeping a journal (weblog) regularly for the first time since pre-Ontarion days, developed new friendships, took stabs at the dating field, wrote a script, pushed my graphic design abilities, kept my boss happy, etc. If 29 maintains the same pace, I'll be a happy camper.
In the end, the key is to allow your mind to stay young, progressive and curious. If I evolve into an old fogey whose conversations are fixated on the weather and what a wonderful job the Reform Conservative Alliance is doing, it's time for the glue factory.