Just a buncha Hooligans.

As I'm only moving up the ladder of the age chart, I realize that aging is not only a physical process. A simple observation, yes. We see our grandparents and parents with a few more wrinkles and gray hairs. Perhaps even in our early twenties, we have a slower metabolism and some sun spots from those days by the pool. 

But there is something more I've noticed in my friends, the people I pass on my bike or even in a cafe, and me as well. 

Our past and what we've always had is becoming much more dear to us than ever before. 

There are the holidays. Biking, driving, walking, blading down our streets, you see houses decorated for every occasion. Whether it's Easter, Christmas, St. Patrick's day, or even Halloween, we do not miss a day to celebrate and buy cheap paper arrangements or carve pumpkins. It's as if our parents send us off to become independent, but we spend these last years to relish in our childhood.  Buying puppies and baking cookies, who wants to grow up? We really are Toys R Us™ kids, and it makes me smile.

Going home, not to the house we so costly rent here that sometimes I feel as though we are modern day peasants in a 21st century feudal system with the greedy landlords as the aristocratic class heartlessly ripping us off, but to the our family and our old rooms filled with high school memorabilia. I jump out of bed each morning I'm home just to hang around the breakfast table with my flesh and blood and other dear people as we dissect life's intricacies with one, two, three cups of coffee. 

Another hands down favorite would land myself in my mom's closet. It has become the hot spot place to be. From worn italian leather satchels and vintage costume clip-on earrings to elastic waisted jean shorts and fanny packs, I don't think of  it as settling at all. It's more like recognizing the coolness of my parents I once cracked on as a silly teeny bopper. 

My best friend and I have accepted the fact that we are our mom's in a nutshell with a couple different spots and crevices yet the same shape and quality. 

So are we all to become a bone-marrow copy of our parents? We take parts, big chunks, of who they are as they did the same with their parents. We tailor our inherited defaults and independently acquired skills to breathe in and out our whole selves. 

A professor told me today, "We're constantly changing ourselves and evolving to become someone new. If  you don't, people are going to be bored with you."

As many books have been written and and leaders have spoken to many crowds, what do you want to be? Just who will you be?

Do we have to grow up to be that being?