The Number 18

As of today (May 28, 2007), there are 17 days until my 18th birthday. Most birthdays are just another day, except I magically increase my age by 1 and get a bunch of presents. This year, however, I feel… different. I actually feel nervous. Why? Will my life be that much different on June 14 as it will be on June 13? I’ll still go to school, I’ll still hate it. I’ll still visit my friends. But no, it’s the magic 18. I’ll suddenly be an adult. I’ll suddenly be “responsible” enough to watch any movie I want by myself. I’ll be “mature” enough to gamble. I’ll have enough “experience” to drink alcoholic beverages. I’ll be “informed” enough to join the Armed Forces (not that I’d want to). What is so special about the number 18? Did society just decide that we needed an arbitrary number for us to do everything? Will I be a different person in 17 days? Short of a traumatic event, I don’t foresee that happening. The worst part is, authority figures such as teachers love to hang that over the heads of their students. They tell us that we are adults and should be act like it. Then they treat us like children. I still have to get a fucking note from my parents to confirm that I’m going to the dentist, or else I’m truant. I go to work, and I’m ever late, or show up violating dress code, I get yelled at because I “should be responsible enough to show up to work on time/wearing the appropriate uniform”, but at the same time, my boss is a condescending bitch and talks to me as though I’m five. Even now, if I were to be caught breaking the law, I’d be tried as an adult, but I’m still too young to go outside for a walk after 1.

Well, I’m starting to go off topic, and I think my point has been made, so I’ll just wrap it up now.

Cheers,

Travis

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~ by Travis on May 28, 2007.

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