Two links (to Ars forum posts) that are more thoughtful than my usual fare:

When did you realize that you are an adult?

Epiphanies in the maturing process

I’ve long suspected that this “adult” thing I learned about as a kid is a complete hoax. Adults are kids with more life experience, who can consequently handle themselves in more situations. The monsters in the darkness never go away; at best, they change shape.

The idea that scares me most of all—far moreso than the idea that I myself will die one day—is the idea that my parents will die someday, and I’ll have to live without them. I’m one who generally dislikes change, and one of the few things that has been constant throughout my life is that my parents love me and are there for me. It pains me something fierce to step back and recognize that my folks aren’t as young as I remember them to be.

Changes in myself have (seemingly) been quite gradual over time; a few months ago I looked at my arms and my legs and wondered how they had gotten to be as long as they are (not that I’m tall, or drag my knuckles on the ground). I’m haunted by the feeling that I am not as smart as I used to be; after discussion with others, I wonder if that’s more the result of not being as curious about things as I used to be.

I suppose I’d argue that “being adult” is something akin to taking responsibility for one’s actions and life; given that definition, I—as I suspect everyone, young or old, is—am a partial adult. I’m occasionally humored about how much more responsible I am than people who are quite a bit older than me; on the other hand, I do still live in my parents’ home.

I also grin like a loon while singing along to Moulin Rouge’s Elephant Love Medley. Some may say that reflects a lack of adulthood; to those people, I write this: =P

And as for epiphanies… I’ll have to think about that, some more. Katie once wondered aloud, on a UHC camping trip, what advice I would give to incoming freshmen at OSU; to this day I’m not sure what I’d say.