Old as...Old Things

I feel super old, which is sad because I'm only 26. Classes started last week and I was supprounded by youngin's on campus. These little 18-year-olds who were so super excited about everything. So thrilled because Look! Over there! A cute boy! And over there! Pizza slices for a buck! And over there!?! A free tshirt when you sign up for a credit card!!!
I went to meet some friends for drinks and say goodbye to one who is leaving on a 2 month backpacking trip to Europe. While it sounds exciting, he's staying in hostels. Like, no mint on a pillow hostels. You couldn't pay me to stay in one. I watch movies, I know what happens in those places. Plus, where would I store my bengay? We old farts have to think about these things before long trips.
Another was telling me that he bought a company with his brother. I know people who are business owners. I'm still trying to work the system so I never have to work another real job in my life. I'd prefer to be a lady of leisure but Dan says that's not gonna happen. My next pick is professional lottery winner. I'm still trying to figure out where to send my application to.
Finally, a third was telling me about her decision to try fertility drugs. When I asked why, she told me that age was a factor and they were concerned that the clock was ticking too quickly to allow them to have the 3 kids they wanted before she hit 40. Not only is it weird that I have friends who are having babies and/or thinking about babies, but it's weird that I have friends who are worried that they might not be able to have babies. My biggest concern as of late is whether or not I'm going to be able to have a dollar slice of pizza and still fit into my jeans.

To combat this age worry, I started thinking about the young and stupid things I did. One that pops into my head was the time my sorority sisters and I got into a war with some frat guys. We all filled water balloons with shaving cream, with the intent of having a balloon fight outside. Somehow, the war started in the frat hallways, which as the balloons were flying made everyone scramble into dorm rooms. The fighting continued, with no regard to personal property. Once peace was restablished, the guys had pledges clean up the mess. At the time, I didn't feel bad. That's what pledges were for, right? But now I think back to those poor guys who were on their hands and knees with towels, sopping up the remnants of our quick battle. I feel badly for how I treated them.

Well, that didn't help my age worry. Instead it made me feel guilty. No more self therapy for me.