the edge of the knife

Everyone always asks the same question on you birthday: Does seven feel any different than eight; is 16 drastically different than 15? How about 21 versus 20?

Having just done the last one, I have to admit that for the first time, it does feel a bit different.

I have just passed into American adulthood. In the United States, you can drive at 16, vote and serve your country at 18, but you're not really considered an adult until you can mosey up to the bar and order a beer (or whatever). It was weird to sit at dinner yesterday and drink a margarita with my Mexican food. It all still feels very dangerous and foreign.

My friends and I have been talking a lot recently about growing up. Since most of my friends are graduating, this is a topic of great interest, one that brings a barrage of uncertainty and general terror. Yet, there is a surprisingly low concentration of excitement in this mix.

As American children, adulthood is the coveted status. As little girls we play house, wanting to be mommies with husbands and houses and families. As teenagers we wear make-up and dress to simulate age beyond our years. But I've noticed recently that once adulthood is actually within our reach, we seem to hit a wall. College undergrads forgo jobs and responsibility for two more years of graduate school. Middle-age women get Botox and boob-jobs.

It seems to be a case of situational dissatisfaction. We all want what we can't have. To children, the responsibility of adulthood and the ability to make decisions for oneself is incredible because the ability doesn't exist. For adults, the idealism of being young and free of responsibiliy is the utmost desire in the face of "grown-up problems" like a job, a mortgage and kids.

Why can't we be happy with what we've got? As some one standing in limbo, on the edge of the knife of adulthood and childhood, I'm scared to tip both ways. I'm not quite ready for one and I'm not quite ready to leave the other.

I think it's all a matter of adjustment. With time, hopefully I'll learn to accept my new place. Either that, or come 40, I'll just invest in some plastic surgery. Only kidding.