Monday, February 18, 2008
I am no longer a teenager. Yeah, okay, I'm one day past nineteen--that hardly qualifies as "old." But there's something about the teenage years that made irresponsibility okay; I could drink as much as I wanted and face the consequences later, or hook up with random guys in clubs, or make and lose friends as I saw fit, all in the name of experimentation and quote-unquote learning about myself.
I'm not saying I will not do these things anymore; Lord knows I love to drink, and though I'm not a fan of losing friends, well, shit happens. Point is, somehow, all this stuff seems worse now. Like I had the chance to get all that youthful nonsense out of my system. I'm twenty. Does this mean I have to tone down the fun?
There are surely many twenty-somethings who still love to have a good time; for instance, most of the people who throw the parties I attend on a weekly basis are older than I am. That said, I don't know if there's something sad about that. When's the time I start having fun just for the hell of it, and start actually plotting the direction in which I'd like my life to go? Does the pursuit of hedonism have an age limit? And at what age do I start becoming truly responsible for my actions? Not to say that a 17-year-old who rapes his girlfriend isn't responsible--I'm talking small stuff, like drinking someone's alcohol without paying them. It was always a shitty thing to do--one that most college students have been guilty of at one time or another--but I think it was more excusable during, say, freshman year, when we were all "just figuring it out," than it would be now.
These are the kinds of questions that bother me when I have nothing else to occupy my time. These are the kinds of questions I try to drink and smoke out of my brain. These are the kinds of questions that I'm terrible at answering and would much rather ignore.