Hello. It’s me.
Just kidding, but it has been awhile. Not that I have a bounteous amount of followers, but just a quick catch up for anyone who gives a damn:
First of all, apparently Facebook has this feature where if you’re anywhere near a tragedy, you can check in safe to make sure that your family, friends, and the people you followed because they post hot pics can all know that you’re safe. I’ve never used it personally, even though there were a couple instances this past year where I should have. So allow me to just check in safe here, having survived 2016.
Many people think it’s America’s Final Season thanks to 2016, which is chill. To each their own. But really, our country’s like a teenage compared to pretty much anywhere else in the world. So it’s more like the Red Wedding season, where a lot of our favorite characters are dying but there’s still a lot of story left.
Going to miss you President Baracka Flocka Flame.
But what a time to be alive!
I told myself it’d be cliche to talk about 2016 because everyone’s doing it and the universal consensus seems to be that it was the year that gave us a business class ticket to destination fucked. So there’s that.
However, I really wanted to talk about being 25. Because I think that I have a pretty rad birthday, in the regards that it’s December 29th – which means that whenever I turn an age I spend the whole next year that age.
It’s trivial, but in this case – 25 is the year 2016, for what it’s worth.
Looking back to the end of 2015 is strange, actually. I had just graduated college, still lived in Oklahoma (which is a textbook flyover state, for those who don’t know), and basically took an epic road trip East and spent New Years day in New York City.
And as if fate would have it, this year? I live in New York City and spent the end of 2016 road tripping West back to Oklahoma to see friends and family for the holidays.
Sending my love to all the folks, who are reading this that I didn’t get a chance to see while home. Oops. Sure I’m not an emotional chap who goes belly up at goodbyes, but I miss you guys and gals from the past life, really. One of the things 25 got me used to real quick was not having the multiple social circles that one might enjoy, having lived in one state for a lifetime thus far.
Actually, by now all my old friends have been alive for a quarter of a century – and are enjoying their individual healthy first waves of adulthood.
By now, I think we’re all old enough to start reminiscing about a time when we were young and call those the days.
With Saturday morning cartoons, tree climbing, denim everything, and those kick ass sour apple suckers with caramel on the outside.
Mind you, I’m a part of the millennial generation, however, so ‘the good ol’ days’ also means participation awards, atmospheric egos, short attention spans, and our complimentary celebrations for being born. Entitled, I think the older gents call it.
But we didn’t collapse the housing and automobile industry, while causing some of the worst environmental and economic catastrophes in world history did we, Generation X and above?
We may be entitled but at least we didn’t break the god damn planet!
Sorry, sore topic.
No but really, I have to agree. We – as a generation – are pretty entitled. I was born in 1990 and I’m an only child so the word privileged might be an understatement.
If there’s one thing that 25 has taught me it’s that you don’t get to just matter. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but just because you walk into a room with a good idea doesn’t mean people should stop their busy lives and listen to it. Even if it was genuinely good.
Sure the older generations broke some stuff in the last ten years or so, but they’re also the ones with the remedy, current day.
Except for a few (looking at you Mark Zuckerberg), my age group aren’t the ones calling the shots yet. We’re not CEO’s and Congressmen and politicians and world leaders. So really, through pretty much every crisis we got to just sit back and scream, “what the hell!” without really having to solve any problems firsthand.
We’ll get to playground bully test our ideas in about 30 years, but for now it’s all water under the bridge.
So time out. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve pretty much been using Adele’s 25 as guide marker through this post so that I don’t end up rambling on about random moments in my 25th year, like when I got pulled over almost instantly after arriving in Oklahoma for an “unsafe lane change.”
Point being, song lyrics are ripe throughout this post. But the next one was too difficult to fit in nonchalant cause the song is River Lea. No way, no how. Anyone reading would instantly be like, “the hell are you talking about?”
Back to 25.
So I fell “in like” in 2016. Shocker to anyone who knows me. It was actually pretty zesty, if I can use a word that I might apply to fruit or vegetable here. And also rather low key. Love in the dark, if you will.
Note: leave the phrase “low key” in 2016’s hell where it belongs.
Don’t worry folks, it didn’t pan out, her and I, and we don’t really talk. I’m idealistic and I have an ego so pretty certain I’m to blame here. So I’m the same ol’ single person, destined to die alone. Which is cool cause I tell myself Isaac Newton did it so it can’t be that bad.
Yeah so I’m pretty private, not on purpose or anything. I like to tell myself that I’m naturally mysterious.
But anyway, I have this weird theory that a person changes instantly when they get involved in a relationship of any kind really. And I think a few friends who I talk to regularly started noticing somewhere in 2016. One straight up accused me outright. Had to dodge that one like the draft.
The point isn’t about any of that though. To get back to what I was saying about relationships changing people; when you enter them, I think, you’re different and when you exit – well same story.
To quote high school musical star, Zac Efron, “the fingerprints never fade from the lives we touch.”
Which actually brings this post to a rather serious heel, because a lot of people have equated 2016 to a year of loss. And in a lot of ways it has been.
Not just in the celebrities that are gone, or the results of an election, but in personal relationships too. My heart broke for two of my friends this year; one who lost his dad to cancer and the other who lost both his parents in a horrific turn of events.
And at 25 I really had no idea what to say to them because comedy is often the go to for combating tragedy, but there really was nothing funny to escape with.
So for a lot of people, this is a year of firsts without their loved ones and 2015 must feel like a million years ago.
I don’t even pretend to know what that’s like. For me, it was a wake up call to just be more present to the people that matter. Cause you really never know. And it sucks to have to watch friends be strong when they had no idea they’d have to be.
But as far as my personal story goes, the 25th year of being alive wasn’t necessarily a sad tale, wholly, but had sad moments.
It was tumultuous.
It was full of growing pains.
And sure, it was a challenge. But more than anything, 25 for me was learning to compromise when you can and staying resolute when you can’t. Cause the next president is proof that change is happening regardless of anyones feelings.
Thus, to my 26-year-old self: all I ask is that you keep it pimpin’ playa. I sort of made some New Years resolutions, but they’re actually more “life principles that I’d like to see incorporated at this point.”
One thing, which I’m not sure is a good thing or a bad thing, is that I feel like I’m starting to settle in, so to speak. Like, at the beginning of the year, there weren’t these dramatic changes that I wanted to see happen to me as a person.
Sure, I got winded on the stairs the other day so I should probably get in better shape. But my 25-year-old self made sure that I was in a completely different place than I was at 24. I can only imagine that my future self will keep that sweetest devotion to change, and exploration, and just growing up
So cheers to being 26!
And Happy New Year, everybody!