Sucky and Super Sunday

I actually have a Super and Sucky post on a Sunday! Hooray!

Sucky:

• I spent the day working today. We just recently started a new weekend rotation and I worked my first Sunday in many months. I don't care how petty it is, it still made me grouchy.
• While Roomie's birthday was a blast (more on that below). I almost didn't get let into a bar because of my ID. It's getting pretty worn around the photo and apparently the hologram is hard to see. The bouncer asked for a second form of ID (no big deal, it happens) and all I had on me was my debit card, with, you know, a matching name to my license. He looked at that and asked if I had anything else with my picture on it. No. I did not. Number one, I don't even own two photo IDs. Number two,  after three years of going to the bars, I don't feel the need to bring three forms of identification with me. Roomie stepped in on my behalf and said, "She's 24!" To which Bouncer said, "And I'm older. What's your point?" Here's where I started really having a problem. I get that he was just doing his job, and if my ID looks sketch, fine. But he was just being a douchebag. And there is zero need for such an attitude problem. He eventually gave my card to a second employee who went and got a flashlight, stared at it for another minute, and I was dramatically allowed inside. Give me a fucking break.
• It's been a while, but a few weeks ago I took a massive digger in the work parking lot. One of my favorite pairs of wedges was falling apart on the bottom and the sole was flapping around. But I wore them anyway because they're cute. Well...the broken flap caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and slow motion style, I ate shit. Luckily no one was around to see my mishap, and even more luckily, because I was in a dress and probably would have flashed everyone. It hurt so bad that I didn't even yell any profanities. I just sat there agonizing for a second and then let out an indistinguishable goan/shout. My first thought, clearly, was OH MY GOD I DON'T HAVE INSURANCE; WHAT IF SOMETHING'S BROKEN? Well, over active imagination aside, I was fine. It stung like hell and took two weeks to clear up, but I was fine. 

Super:

• Even though Roomie desperately tried to skip his 25th birthday, we went out and had a blast. Prior to bar hopping, we started off at our house. Two of our friends shopped up with a walker (complete with tennis balls on the back legs), and over the hill sippy cup and reading glasses. It was the hardest I had laughed in a really long time. We went bar hopping to a few different places, went dancing at the gay bar, and ended the night at Perkins, naturally. I didn't get to bed until after 4:30, and holy shit, I'm old too because that's late as hell for me now. 21 year old me just laughed in my face.
• The next morning I watched a several-hour game of sloshball played by a bunch of friends. It's basically kickball, with lots of alcohol added in. The rules, that I managed to catch, were that you have to have a cup of beer in your hand at all times, you have to stop at second base to chug a beer, to start the game, two teams face off with a game of flip cup, and keg stands were in there somewhere. It  was pretty entertaining to watch. I did not, at any point, take part in said festivities. I'm not even remotely coordinated sober. 

The Big 2-5

In the past few weeks leading up to Roomie's 25th birthday (which is today, so happy birthday!), there's been a lot of discussion in our household about that number. You know, that 25 number. It seems to be holding quite a bit of weight.

In the 13 years that I've been friends with Roomie, I haven't ever seen him so distressed about anything, especially about a birthday. And it's got me thinking. And worrying. I've got a year yet before I hit that number, but there's just something about that digit that is just so unsettling.

Nearly everyone I've talked to has said that turning 25 was their hardest birthday ever. My ex's mom said that turning 25 was harder than 30, 40 or even 50. A former coworker said she didn't even stay out past 8:00 on the night of her birthday because she went home crying.

Just what about that number seems to be so hard for everyone to handle? Well, after quite a bit of contemplation, I think I may have some answers.

1) 25 feels old. Even though, it's still relatively young; not even "late 20s" yet. But for some reason, it has always felt like so much more of a grown up, and so far off. Even when I graduated college at 21, 25 seemed so far away. Dating someone who was 25 almost seemed too old for me, even though if I was single now, a 4 year difference of 27 doesn't seem like a big deal at all. 25 is also so close to 30, and let me tell you, I'm in total denial that number will ever come into my existence. Oh yeah, there's also the realization that you're a quarter of a century. Holy shit, a quarter of a century feels waaay older than just saying 25.

2) Because 25 feels like such a grown up, it gives people a solid point of reference. When people hit that age, I feel they expect themselves to have hit certain milestones in their lives. We put such pressure on ourselves to be so successful by certain points in our lives. We feel like we've failed ourselves if we haven't hit these timely goals. At that, my friends, is where the anxiety comes in.

Former Coworker said she wanted to be married with kids by 25. Instead, she was single in a tiny one bedroom apartment by herself. She was so unhappy that she hadn't hit this fictitious goal soon enough, that she couldn't even enjoy what she did have going for herself. 

My fears about turning 25 aren't as much about not hitting goals for my personal life as I am with my professional life. I know that I still have a year to go, but I never thought I'd be where I am at even 24. At that's not as positive as it sounds. When I was in college, I never imagined that two years after graduating, I wouldn't be working in my field. I never imagined I'd be a temp ever, let alone after 15 months. I never imagined myself working in a call center. I knew that in my field I wouldn't make loads of money, but I had figured I'd be making more than what I'm making now. I never thought I would work so hard for that degree to feel like it's going to waste. 

I already can feel exactly how turning 25 will pan out for me. If I find a job that I'm truly very happy in, and/or a job using my degree, if I'm in a permanent position with benefits and if I feel remotely successful with where my life is going, I'm sure that 25 won't be such a hard-hitting blow. It may be hard to accept that I fully need to be a grown up, or holy shit I'm mid-20s now, but I don't think it will cause me loads of anxiety. HOWEVER, I'm not confident that will happen. I sure as shit hope I have a permanent job by then, but chances of it being something using my education and background are slim. If I'm still in some customer service job, or even worse, a job that causes me as much anxiety and distress as my current one, I'll frickin lose it. But until then, I just need to focus on the accomplishments I have made and try to stay as positive as possible.