Golden Years

     What the hell am I going to want to remember in my golden years? Will it be the missed opportunities, the educational procrastination or the endless search of "The One" that only resulted in "The Friend," "The Occasional Phone Call," "The Doesn't Know What He Wants," "The Crazy," "The Clingy," "The Not My Type Ever," "The I Obviously Drank Way Too Much," and "The What on God's Green Earth Was I Thinking." They say your 20's are a time of outer exploration and inner consultation, but who are "They" really? I can only guess it's people who've survived this seemingly fruitless decade and in some way or another have managed to make some significant life achievement they mistakingly link with this particular time in life, but most likely are only a select group of individuals who've managed to hold onto to even the smallest shred of dignity that no longer prefacing the age question with a 2 has left. I find myself at a loss for words sometimes, just thinking of what previous days have offered and what future ones still hold. I know I'm still young on the general spectrum of things, but there are those days I feel as though I couldn't possibly get any older. It's not unlike the epiphany you have when you begin to realize you are no longer one of the youngest people in a particular spot, bar, club or McDonald's play place. That exact moment when some kid, who obviously just became legal for they are completely wasted and believe ordering the most ridiculous drinks of varied colors and sizes in nonstop quantities actually makes them look cool (Remember those days?) asks, "And how old are you?" Never use to be such a hard question to answer, but occasionally I find myself stumped while staring into the eyes of this vacant youth and sipping my white wine spritzer, and the funny thing is this whole situation has appeared to come out of nowhere, left field, my blindspot. Sometimes I freak out, maybe there's something I missed out on, or maybe I'm just afraid to grow up, but in all likely hood, it's probably because I'm not where I thought I'd be at 26 (though I'd like to meet anyone who is). "They" say 50 is over the hill, so I had thought that by 25, I should've at least figured out which direction is up, but I've always been clueless when it comes to directions (unless there's a giant donut on the corner or a boot in the shape of New Mexico) and Jack and Jill are never anywhere to be found, and even if I do ever wind up going the right way, there are bound to be multiple rain, sleet, snow and "pail of water" challenges preventing my seemless escalation up this "alleged" hill. With so much to look forward to, it is always interesting to wonder what it is I will look back on and actually want to remember, or for that matter, what those things are I will "correctly" remember and what things remembered will make me one of "Them."