Recently I've started to notice that friends I've known since forever are turning into active and responsible members of society. Adults, if you will.
I once had to teach my friend Christian how to cook, and how to clean the toilet properly. He is now a doctor, and is allowed to deliver babies. Ditto my mate Alina, whose jeans I once rinsed of sick after she vommited on herself in front of a boy she had a massive crush on. My bestie Leah and I once survived two weeks eating nothing but profiteroles. (Not as glamorous as it seems- she worked at The Cheescake Ship and we'd spent all our Austudy allowance on booze). She is now in charge of redesigning a major section of metropolitan freeway. If Christian or Aline or Leah screw up at work, people die. You can't get much more responsible than that. Still, I just can't really envision them as proper 'grown ups'. At one time or another I have performed drunken public interpretive dances with all of them, for chrissake. Often to Kate Bush. Or Regurgitator. This is not, as far as I know, something real adult professionals do.
Except here's the thing. When I was younger, I had this idea that the grown-ups I encountered- teachers, dentists, lollipop ladies- uniformly had their shit together. They were faultless, all-knowing and, to my knowledge, never chucked sickies or (not naming names) ducked out of consulting rooms to Google their patient's symptoms.
Now, all my friends are smart people: they're good at what they do. But they haven't all suddenly been handed a golden ticket marked 'responsible adult' and that's that. They teach in high schools and repair planes and fight in the army and raise children, but they don't always know exactly what they're doing. Sometimes they're winging it, and sometimes they're shitting themselves about all the responsibility they've been given. Sometimes it still feels weird not to be able to turn around to someone older and more experienced and go, "there you are. You deal with it."
So here's what I have learned. My youthful vision of an all-knowing stable and sanitary adult world where everyone knew how to balance their cheque books was, and is, a sham. Reporters for major news organisations like to drink too much red wine and giggle while playing air guitar at four in the morning. People with law degrees get excited by strawberry-flavoured beer. Government officials have tattoos of Space Invaders on their arms.
We all still occassionally let our washing pile up to the point of dangerous underwear shortage, or throw tantrums when the boys we like don't call us. We eat cereal for dinner, go to bed with our make-up on and spend whole Saturdays in our pyjamas. Responsibility isn't one size fits-all, and I'm starting to find that vaguely comforting. Grown-ups are people too.
I once had to teach my friend Christian how to cook, and how to clean the toilet properly. He is now a doctor, and is allowed to deliver babies. Ditto my mate Alina, whose jeans I once rinsed of sick after she vommited on herself in front of a boy she had a massive crush on. My bestie Leah and I once survived two weeks eating nothing but profiteroles. (Not as glamorous as it seems- she worked at The Cheescake Ship and we'd spent all our Austudy allowance on booze). She is now in charge of redesigning a major section of metropolitan freeway. If Christian or Aline or Leah screw up at work, people die. You can't get much more responsible than that. Still, I just can't really envision them as proper 'grown ups'. At one time or another I have performed drunken public interpretive dances with all of them, for chrissake. Often to Kate Bush. Or Regurgitator. This is not, as far as I know, something real adult professionals do.
Except here's the thing. When I was younger, I had this idea that the grown-ups I encountered- teachers, dentists, lollipop ladies- uniformly had their shit together. They were faultless, all-knowing and, to my knowledge, never chucked sickies or (not naming names) ducked out of consulting rooms to Google their patient's symptoms.
Now, all my friends are smart people: they're good at what they do. But they haven't all suddenly been handed a golden ticket marked 'responsible adult' and that's that. They teach in high schools and repair planes and fight in the army and raise children, but they don't always know exactly what they're doing. Sometimes they're winging it, and sometimes they're shitting themselves about all the responsibility they've been given. Sometimes it still feels weird not to be able to turn around to someone older and more experienced and go, "there you are. You deal with it."
So here's what I have learned. My youthful vision of an all-knowing stable and sanitary adult world where everyone knew how to balance their cheque books was, and is, a sham. Reporters for major news organisations like to drink too much red wine and giggle while playing air guitar at four in the morning. People with law degrees get excited by strawberry-flavoured beer. Government officials have tattoos of Space Invaders on their arms.
We all still occassionally let our washing pile up to the point of dangerous underwear shortage, or throw tantrums when the boys we like don't call us. We eat cereal for dinner, go to bed with our make-up on and spend whole Saturdays in our pyjamas. Responsibility isn't one size fits-all, and I'm starting to find that vaguely comforting. Grown-ups are people too.
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