Growing Somewhere

It's high time I grew up. Or at least wrote about it... Because I'm getting old. Very old. My knees and back are terrible, I have the agility and coordination of a man quadruple my age, and the last time I played Brain Age, I think my mental age was like 67. The physical aspects of my early onset aging would probably improve if I didn't drink upwards of a gallon of sweet, sweet Coke per day. If you call a life without Coke a life at all, that is.. But the aspect of my age that concerns me far more is my maturity. And yes, I do mean the lack thereof. Day after day, I get further reaffirmation of just how alarmingly immature I really am. Take this weekend for instance. I went up to Virginia to see my incredibly awesome friends. When I presented my parents with my plans, the conversation went something like this (at least in my memory): 

Me: I wanna go to SVU to see my friends this weekend. Real bad.

Parentals: Yeah.. How are you gonna pay for that? You spent all of your money on Taco Bell and clothes. It's even on your stupid blog.

M: Well, you have money.

P: That we do. Like the money we're using to send you to China. And put gas in your car that you suck at driving. And buy a house. And put 4 children through college. That money. 

M: .....Yes. That money. I would really appreciate it. I just need like $40.

P: $40?!?! Do you know how much you eat?!?! You'd need AT LEAST $100 for food alone! (fat joke)

About an hour of intense, hurricane strength begging followed-without any shred of dignity. We eventually had a stalemate, as the Dixons are excellent arguers. I'm pretty sure our coat of arms shows a bunch of medieval dudes shouting at one another and refusing to admit fault to anything, ever. Heritage aside, I gradually saw the error of my ways. Oh yeah, I did squander my money on fake chicken tacos smothered in Heaven only knows what... I will not be able to drive 400 miles without filling up my car, which costs money. And I will have to eat at some point. And my parents, reasonable people that they are, knew I really wanted to see some friends. So the trip happened. I made a scheme, right then, to be as frugal as I possibly could. Ha! I'll show them!! I'll starve myself and give them their money back! I'd present my parents with a big wad of the cash that I didn't spend. They'd hold me in such high esteem. "Look at our son, not spending money. Maybe we should rotate the food storage, because the apocalypse is obviously imminent." My plan failed, miserably. I came home with about $3. I couldn't even be frugal out of spite!! Perhaps the scariest thing about all of this is what I had planned to do about a year ago. I was saving all my money to go to school in Boston. I had just enough for rent and the security deposit. I planned to stick with my valet job for one more year to make up the rest. I was gone, and I was never coming back. Had I stayed at home, this disaster of a life decision would have gone through. Retrospectively, I think I would have lasted about 24 minutes in Beantown. Or anywhere on my own, for that matter. I'd break down when I realized I couldn't have a Chelsea Lately marathon every night, because I'd have to wake up and do some thankless job to pay rent. Smoked salmon is no longer a culinary option, even for bagels. Heck, even bagels are probably too expensive. And I can't get season tickets to the Celtics and still expect to have electricity. Then there would be the questions, with no one around to answer them. What? I have to pay taxes?! The interest is HOW much?! My next question would have doubtlessly involved directions to the Massachusetts Welfare Department and a few good homeless shelters. I was not ready. I'm still not. And I have a hunch I'm not alone, for people in my age bracket at least. I may be immature, but the haunting truth is that I'm probably better off than a lot of people. Has anyone ever watched The Jersey Shore? Yeah. I think I have them beat. But surely there is a fine line between functionality and failure in the real world. It separates the people who pay their bills on time from the people who use them as joint paper. The people with stainless steel kitchens from the people who have to open up soup cans by pounding them with butcher knives. The people who wear suits every day from the people who fish their filthy Ed Hardy t-shirts from a pile of clothes on the floor. It's a thin line indeed, and it's scary. When I'm 25, no one will care what Daddy did. I won't be on the Family Share Plan anymore. I can't take weekend trips with no money. And 25 is soon. We'll all age no matter what, and it's getting time to pull it together. Maybe I'll learn a thing or two from the millions of starving Chinese people. I'm sure they'll point out how I bring dishonor upon my family like all the time. Probably every day. Despite John Mayer's protest to the contrary, there is such a thing as the real world. And unless some stacks of ca$h fall out of a flying pig and land in the living room, it's not gonna be easy. Truth be told, some people never grow up. They're the people you see driving their 1989 Mercury Topazes with bumper stickers like "My Other car is a Broom" or "Horn Broken, Watch For Finger." They mix their vodka with Kool Aid and steal the neighbor's cable. Winners. Or the lucky ones end up like Snooki, with all due respect to Miss Polizzi. And we all know she'll either die from some drugs or become culturally irrelevant, whichever happens first. But I'll give my readers the benefit of the doubt and assume they aren't stupid. I mean, there are quite a few 3 syllable words in here. Hopefully we'll grow up soon. Because no matter how we try to turn back the clock, we're all growing somewhere.