|Gary Breckheimer, New York, NY, 2011|
That's right. The big two-two--according to many, the year we stop giving a shit about our birthday. Really, I stopped giving a shit about my birthday years ago...but this one's a bit exciting.
Over the last couple years, a certain boy kept telling me that twenty-two is the year we REALLY begin to grow up. That a few deeper things start shifting around at twenty-two into a product more solid, more self-sufficient, more set in semi-permanent identities, which makes it all the more important. If you've read Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, I guess it'd be the year our daemons choose a permanent form, or something.
He told me all that, and I said, "You're full of shit, you pretentious toiletface."
But still, I thought it was a neat idea--something to look forward to.
And now I'm twenty-two, so I'll be able to see if his theory applies to me.
Granted, I don't think the clay's going to be drying yet. Not at twenty-two, and not any time soon.