A Curious Girl: Nearly a wrinkly

Hmm.

I keep having "AAARGH, I'm nearly twenty, where did the time go, will I soon be a boring old adult????" moments.

It's just over a month to my twentieth birthday, and boy, am I scared.

I don't know why it's such a terrifying prospect, but it is. My 18th birthday, the big 'you're an adult now' birthday, didn't pounce on me like this.

Incidentally, say happy birthday to the diary, it had its third birthday last week. Good grief, I've been writing here since I was sixteen! SIXTEEN!! Sixteen is mid-teens, angsty but a bit daft. Sixteen is wearing purple hairspray and singing the Offspring loudly outside the headmaster's window. Sixteen is Thinking You Know Everything. Sixteen is damn confusing but when you look back it suddenly seems so simple. Sixteen is writing really stupid graffiti on toilet walls (yes, my sixteen-year-old rebellious streak went as far as writing verse on toilet walls, with such rude phrases as 'up yours', playing DC talk loudly whilst spraying my hair purple, and singing 'Why don't you get a job?' to the headmaster's open window. Hmm, it's really not terribly impressive, is it? Oh yes, there was the time I got drunk on cider with some of my friends. Within an hour, I'd sobered up again and no one at home noticed. Whilst it's not something I'm proud of, it's really not too amazing on the 'rebellious' angle either...)

And now, I'm nearly twenty. Twenty is the end of the teens. Twenty is old enough to practically anything you could want to do. Twenty is 'you're an adult now so stop acting childish'.

I still find it scary that people address me as 'madam' in shops. 'Madam' is old.

Would anyone mind if I carried on pretending to be nineteen? I'll happily turn twenty-one, since that's happy-fun time, the second bash at that eighteenth birthday party. Eighteen part deux. Eighteen was great.

On Saturday night we went to a restaurant/disco, and I cried during Summer of '69. I like that song even though despite it being about the best days of his life, it's blatantly a song moaning about how everything went wrong and they all turned into boring adults. Personally, most of my summer holidays have been a bit naff in most respects (amazingly enough, my skintest summer in 2001 was probably my best thus far), but that song always makes me think of sitting out in the field during lunchtimes in summer, Nicky and me thinking up silly acronyms as alternatives to Legend of the Red Dragon (Lovely Legend of the Yellow Dragon, or 'LLOYD' was one), sitting around at Abi's talking about nothing much, Sara and me going around the Tate Gallery and describing everything as 'interesting', the school Christian Union and hanging around in Ricci and David and Duck and James and Lucy's (etc) formroom and all the daft stuff I did when I was sixteen. It's a nostalgic song, that makes me nostalgic.

But I suddenly felt lost, it just seems so unfair that I can't just go hang around with those people whenever I like. I love all my old friends so much but it's never as easy as just popping round their house anymore. And I know that's a bit of a daft thing to whinge about, especially when I have friends here now and I certainly wouldn't give them and university up just so I could go back to the 'way things were', and besides, I'd miss them terribly and would whinge endlessly in this diary about it.

Oh well... Anyway, I went to the toilets and ended up chatting with Sian about it. She gave me a hug, which I needed :) Thanks Sian.

Matthew and I will have been a couple for a year on Thursday. I find this less scary than being twenty. Why is this? :)

Oh yes, and did anyone like/dislike my analysis of Jesus talking to the Gentile woman? I really would like to know.

Random word for today: hirsute

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