I was told last night that my general living situation made me seem very much like an adult to some people. Granted, these are people my age or older who are living with their parents*, but that's beside the point.

The point is that I still feel like I'm 16, all gangly and giggly and I still can't assert any control over my hair. As our country moves into an ill-conceived war, my brother prepares for (or denies) his impending fatherhood, and my friends continue to get married/buy houses/bear babies, I continue to feel younger and younger and more ill-prepared for what's up ahead.

All I'm saying is that the events of the past week, both good and bad, have reinforced the feeling that I'm mentally and emotionally half my chronological age. That's ok, though. I liked 16. In fact, I've liked it since 1988.

*This should not be construed as criticism - if I hadn't gotten my job when I did, I too would have moved back Home and been happy to do so. There's no shame in going Home.