Picture of me taken 600 years ago at MoMA by Julia Gazdag.
I wrote something for Hello Giggles that will be out tomorrow/in a few days called “Top ten ways to tell you’re an adult.” (Oh hay in the mean time check out the other things I’ve written for Hello Giggles, and it will open in a window so you can read it right after this, don’t even worry about it, friend.) It made me think a lot. I don’t usually think a lot, it’s easier to just do stuff and then apologize. (<– just tweeted the fuck out of this.) I had to really think about how I’ve changed in the last few years and the whole process was so meaningful and inspiring, like a tampon commercial. It wasn’t as sad as I thought it would be. I say sad because recently I turned into someone who cares about their age and I hate it. I blame everything and everyone but myself. So sometimes looking back can be a little frightening.
Do adults feel like adults, ever? Will I reach a point where I look down and think, “I just balanced the shit out of that checkbook.” I really don’t want to. I like buying things and occasionally checking what’s up with my money, and hoping it all works out. I like to do stupid guff that makes me feel like a kid.
Guys I am Tom Hanksing the fuck out of this situation. You know, Big. I don’t mean that I am a little kid named Josh trapped in a boyishly good looking 30 something man. But close! I am little Uncle Almie with her long messy tangled fringed hair under a Mickey Mouse cap stuck in grown Almie’s body. Unfortunately, it’s not cute for me to act like this. I’ve reached the age where it is not acceptable to act like I don’t know how to act like an adult. Indoor voices. And I’m too old to pretend that I don’t know better.
And that’s how I know I’m an adult.
When and how did you realize you were an adult?