Long time no post. Huh.
Two days from now, I will be 17 years of age. I have been alive on this Earth for 17 years.
But what does that really mean for me?
The almighty Gospel of all things ridiculous, Wikipedia, says that at age 17, I can...
- Purchase M-rated video games according to ESRB ratings.
- Donate blood.
- Get drafted.
- Rent or purchase R-Rated movies by myself.
In a word: whoop-de-doo.
At age 13, you're finally a teenager. At age 14, you're finally not 13. At age 15, you're entering high school. At age 16, you're freaking 16. But at age 17, I can give blood.
I don't really understand why I should really be psyched for this birthday. I am, of course; presents, unwarranted love, and constant celebration is all I need to get excited. Plus, this year I'll be at JSA, which means it'll be the craziest party SMCA nerds can muster.
But as far as being excited about the number 17... I'm not so sure.
This last year has been possibly the best of my life. Through it all, I've developed incredible new friendships, gotten the best girlfriend I could ever hope for, become editor of The Word, gotten my first job, and gotten into 4 AP classes. (Okay, maybe that last one I really could do without.)
I'm having a hard time preparing for this because my sixteenth year was unconditionally my best. I don't want to see it go. I don't want to become worried about things I shouldn't be worried about yet, like college, work, etc.
But we all gotta grow up sometime. I guess, for me, now's the time. But as long as I have Kristen, Jimmy, Miguel, Austin, Lily, Becca, Adrian (x2), Suzanne, Matt, Katie, Rachel, and all those friends I can't exist one day without...
I'm sure this year will be just fine.