If you're a regular reader (even though I usually only post once or twice a month) you'll know that quite often my posts are about topics of writing and language, some of which include work of my own. The amusing thing is that no matter what I write about, the point is that I'm writing and that still makes it relevant.
Today the topic is a little special; one that serves its purpose for what is to come at the end of the week.
This Friday marks the 21st year of my existence, which in popular culture means that final road bump in adulthood. But what makes 21 so special? It is likely that western culture, through a heavy influence of American culture has rubbed off onto Australia.
We celebrate our 18th year with the privelage of legally being able to drink, whereas 21 is the legal age in America and thus goes hand in hand with the notion of "adulthood". However, for an Australian, one's 18th year is merely a trivial formality of adulthood. Most teenagers were already doing what an 18 year old can do. In fact, for the last 3 or so months before my younger sister's 18th, I lent her my old I.D.
Funny enough though, that was never me. I never drank and I never went to big parties like that. Hell, I had a no drinking rule at my 18th birthday because I wasn't comfortable with the idea of drinking.
Drinking isn't the be-all and end-all for me but in 3 years, I have grown to be comfortable with it - of course having found out the hard way in the meantime.
So - the significance of a 21st; it's essentially grown to be a rite of passage for western cultures, regardless of legal drinking ages. To me however, I don't find it to be a rite of passage. I became an adult of my own accord. Most definitely not on my 18th, 'cause that's just a load of poppy-cock, but between then and now, through a series of mistakes and successes. I grew up when I realised I had to. When I realised I could no longer live in the dark and escape my responsibilities. I'm pretty sure at some point I've actually documented somewhere moments that I've actually felt an attitudinal change and self-growth. Nevertheless, a 21st is not a 'rite of passage' in my eyes.
Over the years, I have gained and lost many good friends. I've had to learn the hard way who to trust and who really cares. Now, with my vast understanding of people and with a few of my father's life lessons about 'playing the game' under my belt, I feel I have a good group of people around me.
To me, that's something worth celebrating.
Celebrating the people that have come in and out of my life over the years and bringing them all together to share that happiness is how I see a 21st birthday. It is a day about me (and oh how I do love that) but it is also a day about everyone else in my life. From my best-friend of almost 17 years, to friends from high-school, to university friends, to friends that I wouldn't know had I not met another person and well, to my caramel chiko coloured boyfriend. Haha.
You know, I think I have really met a spectacular group of people.
It wouldn't be complete, however, if I didn't mention my family. Celebrating the people in my life cannot be without giving recognition to my family. They are all amazing people.
My sister - who quite literally makes up one half of my soul.
My brother - who resonates on the same retarded-humour wave length as me.
My mother - who has gone to extreme lengths to give me this birthday and gave me life.
My father - who doesn't particularly like me right now, but I do and always will love dearly.
and then my extended family - my cousins and aunties and my Nanna....
Anyway, here I am 4 days away from my 21st birthday, swamped in preparations of food, music, photos, costumes, cleaning, drinks and not to mention assignments and melodrama committments - writing you this.
I always like to say I have my priorities in order, but not often does that work out for me. Ha.
To the spectacular people attending my birthday, I will see you soon.
For those not invited, maybe our friendship has yet come to fruition and maybe next time I have a 21st, I'll invite you.
............bazinga.
Ciao,
Jessica
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