It’s inevitable. Inevitably, I’m on the brink of turning the big(ger) thirty-two! And while I’m typically an antisocial introvert who wants zero part of anything that has to do with being anywhere near the center of attention, the truth is, I turn into a fucking intolerable diva around my birthday. I admit it. I’m kind of a big deal once a year (at least) and I. WANT. TO. BE. SHOWERED. WITH. THINGS. Call me superficial. I don’t give a glittery shit. The Universe blessed this planet with my presence on the 15th day of October damn it and I expect to be swooned and swept off my feet with shiny things and cake and irresponsible amounts of liquor. The birthday bitch complex is alive and well. Usually.
This year… I don’t know. I’m feeling different. I don’t know what it is… but I’m pretty sure that this post will serve to unravel these feels. Right?
Susan (my subconscious): Well I can help you out there hun. You’re turning 32, not 23. Here’s a little wake-up call
doll (you’re not that cute anymore, get over yourself) lady: you’re getting older, weaker, slower. It happens. It’s the law of the things. Deal with it. There. “Feels” unraveled. You’re welcome.
Fuck off Susan. Go back to your deep, dark hole.
Here’s my theory: I think I’ve reached another milestone in life. You know. Like walking and talking and using the potty? The way I see it, in 7 days, I’ll be half-way to 64. Theoretically speaking, that makes me only 32 years short of being a grandma overflowing with wisdom and experience…which means that when it comes to “life”- I am half-way to graduating from adulthood. Which basically all sums up to this: I am almost officially, a semi-adulting motherfucking Ninja slash master of the art of Fake-it-to-Fucking-Make it.
After 31 years of battling life’s obstacles one-on-one; of trying to meet unrealistic expectations set forth by society and “the people” in and out of my life; of tirelessly chasing irrational dreams; of fighting to be more of this and better at that; of struggling to attain some fictional “balanced” version of myself- I think I’ve finally done it. I think I’ve finally figured all of this shit out….
I’ve had an epiphany.
MAYBE, this is IT. MAYBE this is my point of “enough” for now, and I can just relax now and stop struggling to keep up with the Kardashians, with dreams, and with expectations of all that MORE and BETTER shit. MAYBE it should be OK for me to feel at peace with the outcome of my life thus far. MAYBE it’s time to be OK with all of the things that I’ve accomplished as opposed to dwelling on all of my failures to meet certain “timelines” by a certain “age” and sweating the small shit that didn’t happen as planned.
I just want to fucking LIVE and let live at this point. I’m kind of on “whatever happens happens” mode. I’m not saying I give up. I’m just saying time isn’t my friend and there’s no sense in beating myself up about it at this age. I still don’t know what I’m doing and I’m still a walking disaster and MAYBE I’m just…cool with being a semi-adult. I mean…let’s look at this cup of life half full as opposed to constantly looking at it half empty:
- I’ve almost managed to keep myself alive for 32 years (things will get pretty eerie and awkward if I like, die in the next 7 days)! #winningIfIdontdiebeforethe15th
- I have real, in-the-flesh little human kids that I birthed into this world and THEY’RE alive! Totally ALIVE! #winning
- I have a fiance, who actually volunteered to marry me, and he’s ALIVE too (this one is a mystery, considering the amount of times I say things like “I will shank you in your sleep motherfucker, do not fuck with me”). #winningifhedoesntgetshanked
- I have a home. Like a house. A place I come to and sleep in and live in and do the things in! And it is MINES! And it has NOT burned to fucking ashes! #winnerwinnerImakechickendinners
- I have a real car and it has four whole, entire wheels and GAS in it and it moves! And no one has come to repo it! #winningsofar
- I have a bank account! (I was such a gangster at one point, I wasn’t allowed to own a bank account for almost 6 years because I owed every bank alive money.) And sometimes, it doesn’t EVEN have a negative sign in front of the “balance” and that makes me so happy that I have to go celebrate my semi-adulting successes and then well, you know. I over do it but it was worth it! Don’t be so negative! #winningevenifimlosing
- I’ve had a job for 4.5 years and I have NOT gotten fired, escorted out, or imprisoned! (Clearly they have some issues to work out with the H.R. department protocols but hey, I’m not complainin’). Also- I get DIRECT DEPOSIT guys! #winning
- I even have a credit score close to 600 again! And my credit cards are all maxed out BUT I make sure to make my minimum 25$ payments every single month on-time, so I’m not even in collections…at least right!? #thatswinninginmyworld
Holy fucking shit. Talk about success! When it comes to semi-ahdulting I’m the fucking CEO. Eat your heart out, Steve Job’s ghost.
I mean come on! How many of us out here in the REAL world are kind of fed up with feeling like assholes everyday just because we don’t or can’t seem to conform to the “rules” of “adulting” these days?! Life is officially too short.
I’m halfway to being THAT much closer to death and then would any of my drama have mattered if I died constantly trying to ensure that my grass is just as green as the other side’s?! No. There’s no time to compare my grass to yours or theirs. Fuck ALL of the grass.
IT’S TIME TO EMBRACE SEMI-ADULTHOOD!
LISTEN! It’s OK to be imperfect, irresponsible, childish, petty as fuck (or a combo of whichever ones all at once) every once in a while. Seriously. If you’re a semi-adult and you know it clap your hands….(clap! clap!) If you’re a semi-adult and you know it and you truly wanna show it, if you’re a semi-adult and you know it clap your hands… (CLAP! CLAP!)
Stop trying. Stop compromising. Stop stressing. Start SEMI-ADULTING. Grab life like a little bitch by the horns and be like “Hold on son. I’m a fucking semi-adult. You don’t OWN ME. We’re gonna play by MY rules!”
Maybe you’re motivated but you don’t know where to start? Well here are some tips and pieces of advice which I highly recommend you COMPLETELY ignore.
UNCONVENTIONAL ADVICE FOR THE ASPIRING SEMI-ADULT
In a rush? No time to do the normal shit the normal way? Well. Fuck it. Be an on-the-go PRO-aka- a multi-tasking motherfucking sensei! Drive, insert contact lenses, apply mascara and an entire face of makeup all while singing to Whitney Houston’s “You’re Love is My Love” at the top of your lungs, texting your boss with the next best excuse as to why you’re late again, and skipping three lanes over in traffic. Laugh in the face of danger. YOLO. And also, BOO-YAH!!
Did your hubby just actually invite a bunch of people over and your house is a fucking disaster zone?! Of course he did! Well. Fuck it. Hide the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Pick up all the clean clothes, toys, WHATEVER that may be laying around out of place everywhere and toss it ALLLLL in the laundry room or hide it in the closet, or close your eyes, choose a room and ensure no one goes in said room. HIDE IT ALL. Spray air-fresher like it’s going out of style and at least clean the toilet rims for fox sake! FAKE IT TO FUCKING MAKE IT!
Have a big event coming up? Is your dress to skimpy but those love handles are kind of outta control and hard to love? I GOT YOUR BACK BOO-BOO. Be a PROcrastinator and lose 10 pounds in 2 weeks before that event like a boss. Because fuck that shit. Just starve for a few days and take extra caffeine pills you know?! Or sign up with a weight loss clinic that prescribes phentermine and I swear, you’ll lose 5-10 pounds IN NO TIME and you don’t even have to try. Is it healthy? NOPE. Will it be effective for long term results? NOPE. Will it get you slim in time? YEP. WEIGH out your options here and be a realist. Extreme love handles call for extreme measures. I’m JUST saying. It’s ok to compromise organic food for a quick hot bod.
Stop killing yourself and wasting time hoarding money “just in case”: WHAT THE FUCK? Stop it. Please splurge and enjoy your life. Take my two cents on this one and please don’t restrict yourself from living the best life possible for the sake of saving your two cents. It’s NOT worth it. We can’t take the money to the grave with us. It’s so pointless to me! If I want the thing, I get the thing. ZERO FUCKS GIVEN. ZERO REGRETS FELT. Buy shit. Go places. See things. Feel things. Experience things. The money will come as fast as it will go. Don’t be so attached to your bank account. OWN the money and stop letting the money own YOU now and then.
Stop PLANNING so rigorously: Unplanned vacations and outings end up being THE MOST memorable and stress-free ones, that’s just a fact. And how MANY couples do everything “scientifically” right in order to have a baby- fertility calendars, “planned” sex, baby-making-voodoo spells, rain-chants, moon-dances, and NOTHING. Then, as soon as they “give up” and decide to adopt, and have romantic wild love without focusing on a baby… BOOM! Pregnant as fuck. It’s just the way the universe works- you can’t force things.
How many kids feel FORCED to go to law school or medical school and end up so miserable half way through they fucking quit to pursue Rap or writing or painting careers?! This is textbook “life” shit people. Stop trying to plan and start allowing life to take it’s course naturally.
I’m kind of saying that IT’S OK TO SETTLE SOMETIMES: But let’s look a little deeper here: The qualities that we all strive for in life include: LOVE, FINANCIAL PROSPERITY, GENIUNE HAPPINESS, AND HEALTH.
YOU WILL NOT ALWAYS HAVE IT ALL, AT LEAST NOT FOREVER.
If you’re in love, perfectly healthy, and genuinely happy- you’re probably a writer in undying love with a mechanic and you’re having a rough time with money.
If you’re rich as fuck, healthy, and happy- you’re probably single and too intimidating or unapproachable or too picky. So you’re either too terrifying to others, or too terrified of others.
If you’re rich, happy, and in love- you or the person you love are bound to be diagnosed with stage 4 cancer or are about to die in some unexpected way which will lead to misery and being left along to suffer with lots of money which you will use to search endlessly for the things to fill that void that will probably never be filled again no matter what.
I can do this mix and match game of “Life” all fucking day ya’ll.
And I can write a BOOK with so much unnecessary advice and tips on mastering the art of semi-adulting…but to be honest, it took me 12 days to finish this damn post because of LIFE trying to be a slutty distraction, so I’d probably finish a book by that 64th birthday!
I’m feeling so much better now that I’ve come out of the extra-petty-closet. Literally. Fuck all of it. 32: I’m SO ready for you. CHEERS TO SEMI-ADULTING!