Let’s see, I’m…uh, 27 I guess


I’m turning 27 years old here in a few days, which is a daunting notion.  As similarly-aged people can probably attest, I feel like I wasn’t 26 for that long.  I think there are two reasons for this feeling.  The first is that, with every year that passes, that year is a smaller fraction of your remembered life, and so it feels less significant.  The other reason I feel this way is that I don’t have to remember my age very often.

When you’re a kid, your age is very important.  “And how old are you?” is a favorite question adults ask little kids.  As a kid, you’re always angling for new benefits from your parents, using your age as evidence of newfound worthiness.  As a teenager, society gives you big benefits with specific ages (voting, driving, drinking, etc).  But the last few years, I’ve had very little occasion to verbally announce my age.  I’ll show my ID, or enter my birth date on a website, but I’m not saying to myself I’m 27.  I’m only thinking, I’m old enough for this.

On the plus side, LeBron James’s handling of his “Decision” makes me no longer feel depressed that he’s younger than me.

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