Maturity

I recently hit the quarter-century mark of my life. A few weeks prior, I found my first grey hair. It’s a sign of the times, kiddos. I’m a grown up. Well… maybe.

Through middle school, high school, and even into college, I often heard comments on how mature I was. I tended to relate more easily, and on more levels, to people older than me. I didn’t dick around with the usual coming-of-age phases. I was bored and unimpressed with drunken parties by age 17, and always found philosophy more compelling than gossip of who was sleeping with whom. I was enthusiastic about learning, and sinking my teeth into projects with meaning.

But then I veered off course. I quit my almost-respectable job. I moved into my car. My plans to go to veterinary school were cast aside within a few months of my departure from a normal(ish) existence. I became a leaf on the wind. Over the past few months, I’ve encountered an increasing number of people who are dubious upon learning that art modeling is my full-time job, and the only job that I wish to have at this time. It seems that I unwittingly passed the expiration date for a lifestyle of whimsy and youthful optimism. Suddenly, I’m the one who has fallen behind on the maturity curve.

But ya know, I’m pretty sure that I’m okay with this. I’ve dipped my toes into the pool of Adulthood, and it wasn’t all that impressive. I’ve no doubt that there will come a day when I crave more stability and predictability, but I won’t soon forget the lessons that I’ve learned as a leaf on the wind.