but seriously.

my stepmother always used to tease me that i appeared to be getting younger as i got older; the first few times she said this to me, it made me crazy. "i'm not getting immature in my old age," i would say. "i am a mature and poised human being." of course, after a while, my retort started to make me dissolve into paroxysms of laughter, because it's utterly absurd, and she was absolutely right.
when i was a child, i was so blindingly serious about everything. i'm not sure if it's because i'm the youngest daughter, or a child of a divorce or what, but until...well...a couple of years ago, i really had something to prove, though for the life of me i can't imagine what it was. everything was a question of accomplishing the task at hand, and doing it better than anyone else. get the best grades, speak at graduation, get the roles in the local theater, get into the best college, be the best best best! it was all very strange, because it was never my parents pushing me; it was just my own pathological desire to live up to my own absurdly high expectations.

as such, i found myself having trouble relating to my peer group. in high school, i was lucky, because i had an extraordinary group of friends who just accepted my insanity, even loved me for it. then i got to college, where i was looked upon as an alien being. i didn't drink. i didn't do many drugs. after a while, i didn't eat. i didn't have indiscriminate sex. as far as the other students were concerned, i had no business being there in their world. and so i became even more serious. i got internships. i threw myself into my work. i traveled abroad and started dating a man ten years my senior. i dedicated my life to getting through college and settled into the next leg of my life, the next defined target.

and then i got there. and i realized i'd run out of finite targets. the track i'd been on had suddenly stopped. the life i'd catapulted into was a wide playing field with no top and no real rules.

so, once i'd gotten over the shock, i decided to start having fun. 'fun,' of course, being a relative term as viewed through the eyes of someone who didn't know much about the actual meaning of the word. the 'fun' started with dumping the older boyfriend and falling rapturously in love with someone who could not have cared less. whizz-bang.

but then i figured it out, this 'fun' thing. i got friends, i got my music thing going, i got a life. i started eating for the first time in about three years. i started drinking (socially. i did not become an alcoholic, thanks). i started engaging in normal social activities. i started doing the things that i should have been doing in college--forging friendships, having fun, living my life. all the things i'd been far too serious to do.

and what did it get me? some broken hearts. a few extra pounds. some stunning headaches. a pack of friends i'd lie down in traffic for. a loud, ringing, melodic laugh that i'd never known i possessed. a certain amount of peace with my appearance (particularly the belly). some sleepless nights and some wonderful stories.

all that is hardly befitting a properly serious and studious young lady. so i decided to become less serious about certain things. i still smoke a lot. and i do worry more about my finances. and my health. but i'm not afraid of my life anymore. i don't feel a need to spend two and a half hours at the gym every day. i don't need to punish myself for being interested in frivolity, or being more interested in my social life than in my job, or being myself. i don't need to be smarter, or better than everyone around me anymore. i don't have to date men in a different age bracket so that i can prove i'm an adult.

i just have to be me.

and interestingly, it turns out that i'm kind of fun to be around when i'm just being me. actual, silly, goofy, loyal, ridiculous, crazy, sensitive, non-absurdly-serious me.