...On being 27

Twenty-seven is a very peculiar age. By all intensive purposes, I’m grown. I could be the mother of several children. I could be the CEO of a rising and prosperous company. I could be serving where the need is greater. I could be working on my masters. I could be a trophy wife for some well to do gentleman nearly old enough to be my something inappropriate. I could be many accomplished things, indeed, but I still feel a bit like a child. Is that normal? Is it that I require more ‘life experience’? And if so, what would that involve? Is it weird to wish you had some sort of auto-pilot avatar that could take your place in your normal activities while you go off to do unscheduled things? Even if for a day? I mean, not wicked things (going to Vegas with your trust fund and waking up to a life-sized neon colored rubber antelope bedside, a room destroyed and covered in glitter foam and a man named Raul who claims you are his esposa. Awkward.) But unscheduled things like midday coffee with friends after a great day in service. Things like a random stop by Von Maur clearance, landing you the shoe score of the current century and the next. Or taking the day to browse the farmers market, pick up some choice local goods and construct the best lunch and dinner you have had in a good long while. Or maybe getting to all those projects you have half finished in the craft closet tucked in the back of your mind. I suppose these things have very little to do with being 27, but it does seem the older I get, the less time I have for the things I used to love. I reckon that happens to most people, and the figure “oh, I’ll work hard now, and then enjoy the things I want to when I retire.” But to me, that’s a bum deal, cause by the time you retire in this system of things, you’ll be too old and too tired to really enjoy like you want to. Jell-O and Jeopardy here I come. Lol, okay maybe its not that extreme. Maybe, I should just worry and focus on the present.