{warning: “introspective” (self-involved?) ramblings of a 20-something ahead}

Turning 25 this week led me to pondering all kinds of things, but really the main thing going through my head was, why are you all on Facebook this early in the morning? and who is that guy who just wished me happy birthday? Do I actually know them?*

(seriously. We are such a culture of social media addicts. Myself included, especially since I spent 20 minutes on the morning of my birthday figuring out how to post a photo to Instagram. It’s all about priorities).

I’d just experimented with Michelle Phan’s paper bag curls, and look how pretty they turned out! I felt like this was important enough to spend 20 minutes figuring out how to post it on Instagram.

Fun aside, about a month ago I had my first-ever “mid-life crisis.” It was more of a sudden realization that in a month I was going to turn 25, and of my own mortality, and that I’m not quite where I want to be yet, or where I (mostly sub-consciously) thought / hoped I would be at this stage.

On paper, I’ve got it REALLY good. I own property, I have a semi-stable job (dependentonfundingfordollarsthatIneedtoraisebutit’sallgoodanddoesn’tstressmeoutatall!) doing work that makes a difference, and I’m in a long-term happy relationship. And all of that is excellent and I’m extremely pleased that I’ve come this far throughout my first quarter of a century of living. But I guess what sort of bothered me when I had these realizations is that I haven’t developed as a person as much as I would have liked. I’m not as considerate of a person as I’d like to be, or as a good of a friend, or as calm and anxiety-free and put-together on the inside (and, er, maybe on the outside? Don’t answer that ;)) as I assumed I’d be at this stage in life.

Twenty-five, as my grandfather wrote to me in a recent letter, is an interesting stage in life: “you have a pretty good idea of what life is all about… here and now… the past gone… the future a mystery. The rest is all detail anyway.”

After being obsessed with birthdays as a child (and planning my parties months in advance!), I’ve come to think of age as something a little ridiculous. I mean, why was it that on September 23, I had to pay an extra fee to rent a car, but on September 24, I’m “responsible” enough to rent a car without paying a deposit? It’s the same with voting and drinking. Why is it that one day we aren’t “old enough” to do these things, and the next day, we are?

So often, I look past age, because I feel like it doesn’t really matter. Especially in this day and age when 15-year-olds are acting like 21-year-olds, and 30-years-olds are acting like 18-year-olds (between the media trying to get kids to grow up super-fast and the entitlement / regression of us millennials, we are in a time that’s just plain weird!). But having this…. epiphany? mid-life crisis? freak out that I’m not immortal? … made me wonder if perhaps there is something to age. That as much as I feel like I relate more to someone in their mid-thirties than their mid-twenties most of the time, maybe there are some things that you just don’t “get” until you reach a certain age.

What do you think? Is this all just ageist, or do you think age really does make a difference, no matter who we are? Where were you at the age of 25 (or where are you / do you think you will be)? Share in the comments section below!

*Also, squee look at how many people thought of me today! If for nothing else, I love social media for the birthday reminders and how many random people wish you a happy birthday. It’s such a great boost for the ego.