Lessons

At the age of 23, I am, in the eyes of the law, an adult. This distinction is not something that I am inclined to agree with a lot of the time.

Now, a lot of people would suffix this statement with something about being young at heart and always keeping in touch with their inner child/teenager/ bitter adolescent, but I feel like I may still be stuck in that place, despite having done all of the things that generally mark the change into adulthood. I've moved out of my parents' house, gone to four years of college, and graduated. All of these things dictate that I am considered an adult.

When I was growing up I always thought that growing up to this point would reveal some sort of truth to me. Kids never understand why adults act the way they do, but it never bothered us because we were always under the impression that they knew what they were doing. After all, they were older and wiser and knew things that we could only hope to know in due time. We were told that if we stayed in school and did things right, then we would learn all of these things as well. Unfortunately, it turns out that there's no way for the school system and a few documentaries to teach someone how to operate once they've reached that magical point in their life when suddenly, things aren't figured out for them any more. Ultimately, growing up is about learning skills that will allow one to succeed and live at least comfortably in the world. I feel as if I am severely lacking in some of there skills. Of course, the one that led me to write this is that I have no clue how to go about finding a job now because all of my experience in job hunting thus far has been going to strip malls looking for part time jobs in restaurants, and the thought of being judged on a resume that I find rather uninspiring terrifies me. But there is another one that really makes me feel like a child.

I cannot deal with grocery shopping. I don't mean going up to the Publix to pick up bread and milk, but if you were to tell me to go there and spend at least fifty dollars I would have no clue what to bring back. You see, I can't cook to save my life. My diet includes one meal eaten outside of the house per day, and what I do eat at home is usually pre-made microwavable crap or simple sandwiches and chips. People have always told me it is cheaper to make my own food at home, yet when I buy ingredients to cook a full meal, it ends up costing me twenty dollars or more. Even at a relatively nice place, dinner costs far less to have prepared for me. I simply do not understand the concept. Not being able to cook also makes the store seem like a strange collection of random items that I am expected to use in some way that will produce a result, as if you were to hand me all of the parts of a motorcycle and ask me to put them together for you. So what you'd get is the culinary equivalent of a motorcycle with no handlebars and the exhaust pipe blowing straight into your face. Seriously, what the hell do you do with celery beside just...eating it? Who needs a quart of vegetable oil? CAKE flour? Sensory overload ensues, and I make a hasty retreat with my 3 Stouffer's Mac n' Cheese things and some kind of cereal. More than anything else, this makes me feel more anxious and lame than just about anything. You'd think after 23 years I'd know how to eat.

There are many more of these little things that I feel like I should know (the short list includes How Banks and Taxes Work, Why My Car Keeps Breaking, and What's So Great About "Lost"), and there doesn't seem to be any source of information out there that details any of them. Dad's gonna have a lotta 'splaining to do next time I see him.