My nineteenth birthday was about a month ago. I was incredibly lucky to have spent it at home with friends and family, but I couldn’t help feeling a little empty. This hole could not be filled by my new Star Wars mug, or even my own copy of Magic Mike. Something about nineteen was different, so I took some time over the absurdly long break to reflect on this universal experience of turning nineteen. At the risk of sounding like an overdramatic teenager, I decided to deeply analyze why this birthday was the first time I felt that growing older wasn’t all that great. Could it be a quarter-life crisis already in effect? Or am I part of some greater cultural phenomenon?
In an attempt to stay positive, I made a list of all the things one can do at the ripe old age of nineteen:
- In certain provinces of Canada, you can purchase alcohol! Excuse me while I go and transfer to the University of Ottawa.
- It is now legal to gamble in Alabama and Nebraska. Perfect! Those are my two favorite states in America, clearly known for the hottest casinos. At least I’ll have something to do in the airport now.
- You can buy cigarettes in certain states. However, in Rhode Island the age of purchase is eighteen, so this isn’t too exciting for us Brunonians.
- You are no longer entitled to free education in Montana and Oregon. This is why we should all be “Feeling the Bern.”
- You only have one year left of being an angsty teenager.
- You can create a “20 before 20” bucket list and then do nothing on it. A good example: actually muster up the courage to use my fake.
- Have an existential crisis over the fact that your age is a prime number. Gross.
- Realize you must create a good answer to the question “Where do you see yourself in five years?” since you’ll be in the real world. Yikes.
Now despite all of these wonderful milestones, the age of nineteen has produced a sort of withdrawal. At fifteen many of us could obtain our permit and by sixteen we could drive. Seventeen provided the gift of being able to actually buy a ticket for an R-rated movie – no more sneaking in! And then eighteen comes. We’re finally legal! Most of us don’t get mistaken for unaccompanied minors at the airport (I have yet to stop receiving skeptical looks when checking in). Tattoos are legal, as long as your parents don’t see them. And even though I haven’t bought a lottery ticket yet, I at least have the option to. What’s sad about nineteen is there’s nothing all that exciting about your subsequent year of existence, except maybe being one year closer to twenty-one. Oh, and getting Magic Mike on DVD. That was a really great present.
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