Oh, wait, it was last week. Literally seven days ago. But I'm here to tell you, that yes, I am maturing. Slowly.
As ridiculous as it may sound (and I assure you, it will sound ridiculous, especially if you read it out loud in a Minnesotan accent), I discovered my new found maturity while singing along to a Miley Cyrus song. Right, I know. It's not just my varied music tastes that assure me of my limitless intellectual boundaries...
You see, all my life, I've been terribly afraid of what other people think of me. I'm a very cynical and sarcastic person, but I try to keep my bitchy asides to myself, and the people I call my best friends- you know, the ones that I'm friends with because they either have incriminating photos of that one night, know way too much about the 'real' me, or because it's too hard to break in a new friend at this age. But to strangers, I strive to be unusually pleasant and try way too hard at being humorous and agreeable.
It's exhausting.
I've always been fearful of disagreeing with the status quo, or voicing my opinion if I thought it to be contrary to the majority's. I don't know why, but I've constantly censured myself. It's not even that my opinions are that wacky, or outlandish, or offensive. When I was younger, I guess it was just easier not to have them at all, tame as they may be.
Last Thanksgiving, we were all sitting in my grandparent's living room, when my cousin let out a slight giggle. "Nice shoes, Grandma."
I looked over to my grandmother, who was born in the 1930's, and down to her fancy footwear. She was wearing Rocawear sneakers.
"Thank you! I got them at Macy's." --Was her reply. She didn't care that people her age generally stick to Keds, and I really doubt she knows who, exactly, Jay-Z is. The simple fact was, they were brown and gold and matched her outfit, so she bought them. She liked them, and that was all that mattered.
It got me thinking... maybe that's what maturity is? Liking what you like, being who you are, with no excuses or explanations necessary.
And that begs the question... who am I? I'm not really sure, but here are a few truths:
I like that Miley Cyrus song. I don't like all of her songs, but the new one, Party in the USA? I like it. If it's on the radio, I'll sing along. If it comes up on my iPod's shuffle (yes, I downloaded it) I may pause long enough to hear it through its last chorus.
Clueless, is probably my favorite movie of all time. I have others that I quite enjoy: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next, This is Spinal Tap, My Man Godfrey, Edward Scissorhands and the Princess Bride... but Clueless? It was brilliant. I don't care what anyone says.
I love Target. It is a fantastic store.
Sometimes I watch NFL games, but only for three reasons. Tom Brady, Brady Quinn, and Mark Sanchez. I couldn't care less about the game. I usually only watch a few minutes, get in a few close-ups of the QB, and peace out to a different channel. Probably ABC Family or something equally juvenile.
I'm disorganized to a fault. It's pathetic, because I have planners and binders and file folders and bins and hangers and ANYTHING anyone would ever possibly need to be a reasonably neat and tidy person. And I disregard them. It's as if I buy them to appease some sort of cleanliness obsessed person deep inside me, but my sloth-like tendencies always come out the victor.
I hate Ugg boots, Ed Hardy, Juicy fits (tracksuits, to those of you who don't have a Jevon dictionary) and probably almost anything fashionable... Perhaps it's that I have no fashion sense, but I'm okay with that.
Apathy is something I've mastered, conquered and learned to hate. It's who I am, but I know that to become a better person, I need to fight against it with all my strength. I'll work on that tomorrow, I guess.
I don't understand the whole Twilight, Edward, vampire obsession. I've read the books, I saw the movie. I still don't get it. And I'm pretty sure I'm one of about eight people that shares that opinion. I also don't understand the hoopla surrounding Star Wars, or the Lord of the Rings. Though, I have to admit, I love Harry Potter. I'm not 11, but I sure as hell would drop anything and everything if my Hogwarts letter rolled in tomorrow, late because of my frequent address changes...
So there you go. A tiny, little peek into the real me. These things may not seem monumental, at all, but most of them are things that I clearly remember lying about. Oh, also, I lie a lot. Mostly to strangers, but does that make it any better? Actually, I think it does... but that's neither here nor there.
It comes down to the fact that you may not like me, but I can't say that I actually care. Well, I probably do, because who am I kidding, I live to be liked... But I'm going to try not to.
I'M BECOMING A GROWN UP!
So suck on that, suckers (lame...).
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