fo' shizzle

I think I'm sort of an adult now.

One may find this statement somewhat odd coming from an educated, career-minded individual of 26 but honestly, it's a bit of an epiphany for me. For so long, I've felt more like a goofy 19 year-old, still trying to figure out what she wants, incredibly naive about the world that awaits her. I really don't know why I feel this way sometimes; I was always fairly mature for my age and managed to avoid many of the idiotic mistakes many in my generation made. Age 26 has found me quicker than I anticipated, so I guess I'm still sort of in shock. I remember when 23 seemed ancient and untouchable. My best friend since forever started dating a 23 year-old while we were in high school and we could barely wrap our little minds around the concept of being that age. College was our next obstacle in life, and 23 was beyond even that. Of course, that all changed when we turned 23 and we were able to realize just how not old that was.

Lately I've been doing better at work; my craftsmanship is slowly improving, I'm taking on more advanced jewelry work, and I'm learning how to manage a shop, relying less and less on others. I suppose that's the catylst for me feeling this way. The other reason is sort of stupid, but it's a big deal--too big a deal, really--to me. Over time, I have managed to convince myself that I am mostly worthless in when it comes to the culinary arts. This really isn't true, it's just me being unrealistic once again. I won't go into this too much; I've already blogged/whined on this subject recently. However, the past handful of days have given me some much needed hope. My sister compiled a scrapbook of favorite recipes from my family and gave me a copy as a belated birthday gift. I tried a recipe for a corn casserole (with some trepidation) and it actually came out good! Not just merely edible ("it'll make a turd" as my friend Trevor puts it), but enjoyable. This is a foreign concept for me when I experiment in the kitchen. And yesterday? I put some taco meat and cheddar cheese in wonton wrappers and fried the little buggers up! And it was a bit of alright, too!

Now that I have conquered my bench and my kitchen, maybe I can learn to keep them both clean and in order!

(crickets chirping)

Okay, well maybe someday.

Couple all that with the fact that I have begun to lose touch with the current batch of 16 to 22 year-olds. When I see something good, I still refer to it as "the bomb". The concept of "mugness" (remember our discussions on this, Holly?), however undefined, is still more understandable than "fo shizzle my nizzle". I recently learned that the word "crunk" refers to someone who is acting crazy. That's what the class of 98 would call "crazier'n a mug!!!" This new generation is probably looking at me in the same way I look the fool still saying "radical, dude!" and "tubular".

In spite of all that, I'm enjoying the distinction of being 26. Not too young, but far from going downhill. I just don't like thinking about turning 27 in March. That's a little closer to 30 than I like.