1990+18=Me now. Most people use the New Year’s to make their resolutions for the new year and as a marker for personal achievement. On the contrary, I think by ages. Even though I will likely be no different on the first day of my 18th year as compared to my last day of being 17, there’s a palpable feeling in the air.
I think I’ve sounded like a broken cassette recorder for the last few months, but I really want to become 18, and I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because then I’ll have an actual license to drive with, instead of a “provisional” one that prevents me from carrying anyone under the age of 20. Maybe it’s because I’ll stop having nagging things online asking me if I’m 18 (like, say, a game website). Maybe it’s because I’ll not have the weird looks from fellow students and professors when I say I’m 17.
But mentally, where was I, going from sweet sixteen to serious seventeen? About a year ago, I was still reeling from my acceptance is wondering what my future was in high school and in Princeton – and especially, how I would cope in a radically different place from where I grew up and with different people that I lived with. Uncertainty was the keyword.
I’m tempted to use that word again for this year, but in the end, uncertainty is a part of life, and I can never change that much as I try to chart the un-navigated waters and rapids of existence on Earth. So, I’d say the keyword I hope going into another undoubtedly weird year of my life is confidence, to gain the confidence that I need in life, and go from a worrisome kid and stop letting things from the past cloud myself and my thinking.
One more year from now, I’m going to look back at this and wonder in wonderment.