Rachel, my friend from high school, called me last night to say she’s getting married!
Let’s analyze this sentence, ok? Rachel called Castle Von Hoffmann from the house she and her fiance own in Virginia. I love my household, but there’s a huge gap between adult life, and my constantly chaotic life of lizards and gamers.
Rachel’s probably my oldest friend, she was my very closest friend through junior high and the beginning of high school. How could someone who had all the major milestones with me be getting married? Actually, we didn’t have all the major milestones, I had my first boyfriend LONG before she did. (Who, by the way, is also married.) And I know she’s doing the right thing, she’s not rushing into it. While I have the occasional white-dress daydream, I can’t imagine the actual love, honor and obey. Did I screw up somewhere and stop maturing? Was I skipping class the day everyone else learned about committed relationships?
Rachel’s a second grade teacher now, just like she wanted to be when we were twelve. I think I wanted to be a ballerina or a computer programmer then. I’m twenty-three now and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Probably go back for more school after I finish in May. But if I’m going to be in school forever, can’t I at least be smart in daily activities, too? What good is mastering literary theory or Roman warfare if I can’t park a car and I shrink my laundry?
And if I have to be the bluestocking stereotype, can I have a cat?
Wait, that might be a little bit too complicated, but I could take good care of a nice cactus.
