Growing Pains

So how do you determine adulthood? Like being all the way grown? I know according to the law, 18 years old = grown. But we all know that’s a lie, that’s a lie, that’s a lie. Sometimes I think I’m only quasi grown. This is mainly due to the fact that I’m not a home owner. For some reason, I think that once you got your own shyt, yo’ name on a deed, a piece of something that you gotta pay on every month so you can keep it, well then you grown. Like for real. And even though I work 40 hours, contribute to a retirement fund, pay my own bills, gotta fix my own car when it breaks down, I wonder if I’m really grown…

That is until I got on facebook tonight before I started writing this post and saw that our department’s intern (a Howard University student) is at an open mic in Hampton, Virginia. A four hour drive – for those of you who don’t know… And I’m wondering is her ass gon’ make it to work tomorrow morning? Cause we need her there. She has shyt to do. And that’s when I realized...

Damn it, I’m grown. Cause I wish I could hop in a car, with a devil may care attitude, and head down the highway, somewhere, anywhere, and not worry that I have sooo much work on my desk. And not have to weigh the pros and cons of if this is a good enough reason to use my leave. Cause you know that leave is sacred. Can’t go wasting it on some bullshyt. And even as I sit here with a cold, desperately wanting to call out sick, the grown woman in me is all, “Nah girl, you can’t let the ‘team’ down. You know y’all have a HUGE project coming up.” Dang this grownness! When did I start caring about a “team?” Who am I?

I mean here I am seriously planning a vacation in July. Eagerly anticipating those few glorious days of foolishness and debauchery. Like for real looking forward to it, crossing off the days on the wall like I'm in prison and shyt... And while I definitely don’t want to go backwards, it’s fun to remember a life with little responsibility.

When you could just call your supervisor and be like, “I ain’t coming in today.” And not have to give a for real explanation. Shyt. Sometimes you didn’t even bother calling cause you didn’t even need that damn job anyway. Or having someone call you and say, “What you doing?” And you say, “Nothing.” And they say, “Let’s ride.” And y’all get in a car (or for y’all ballers with a trust fund– a plane) and go. And you don't have to answer to anybody. Don't have to worry that you need to go to work, so you can make money to pay for x,y, and z. Haven't started worrying about saving money for: when you're old, or for a down payment on a car or a house or a new laptop cause your 'e' and 'r' kys ae missing... Tee hee. Just living in the moment, like it's gonna be this way forever. Ahhh the foolishness of youth...

I know a woman who always says, “you know sometimes you can grow old and not grow up. And that’s a shame.” Ain’t that the right. And so as I make better decisions in the present because I know they will directly affect my future, I recognize that I'm growing up. But there’s a little, tiny, part of me that’s slightly envious of my intern. But I know she better show up to work tomorrow or her ass is grass. But if she doesn’t. I’ll totally understand. And smile a little on the inside.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!