Being An Adult Blows

Call me naive if you like, but I am of the general disposition that there was an implicit promise that when grown up my life would be a lot better. Isn't that pretty much the promise? You jump through the hoops of high school and parental control, put up with being broke in college for four years in spite of flinging yourself into a giant debt hole, then it's on to the sweetest freedom right? Well, I beg to fucking differ, because so far all I have to show for being "on my own" is an ulcer the size of Kansas City, and a bank balance whose digits, when added together, equal eight.

Sure, as a child you have to put up with a lot of shit. You control nothing. You have no voice in anything. You are, for all intents and purposes, a slave to the wisdom of your parents. The benefits though? Oh they are sweet. If there was something you were afraid to do, like a cannonball off the high dive board, and finally got the courage to do it you could shout "watch me!" until you got your folks attention. When you made that leap you were celebrated as a hero.

What a brave little tyke you were! "Let's get you out of those wet clothes and into a warm Happy Meal" was the order of the day. You felt like the king of the world, but in retrospect there was a long way to go before the really frightening crap started. Climbing a tall tree may have been a big deal when you were ten, but that doesn't exactly prepare you for the day when you've got rent due and all you have is $3.58. In pennies. That you were hoping to use to buy some Top Ramen. And when you do figure out a way around that who's there to pat you on the head and give you a cookie?

Do I pay into a 401K? You're damn right I do. It's the smart thing to do. It's the grownup thing to do. It's also the damn boring thing to do. I want that money! Thinking about marriage? You'd better start saving now, cause that 30 year mortgage ain't gonna pay itself. And while you're at it you might want to look into moving. Sure, that cool city you moved to when you were fresh out of college was a lot of fun, but is it the kind of place where you want to buy property? And what about raising kids? You gotta think about the children. Of course, this is all assuming that you've gotten past the punching a girl in the arm and calling her a doody-head phase of your life and can construct reasonably mature relationships.

I'd also recommend that you disabuse yourself of any notion you might have of still being indestructible. I'll admit it worked great for me yeas ago when it could be argued that I was, in fact, somewhat impervious to harm. Back when I could get hit in the head with a pole vault pole and scoff at the very idea of going to the hospital. Back when we would stay up all night drinking frighteningly cheap beer until the sun came up letting us know that it was chicken fried steak and a short stack of pancakes time. Before I found I had the preternatural ability to severely injure myself while sleeping.
Now, more than a couple of cups of coffee makes me feel like I swallowed a blowtorch, and after about three beers I'm getting awfully tired and after all it's already 9:00 and I've got work tomorrow.