25 is an odd age. We are anxious and then bored, and then excited all over again. One day we want to be "cultured", the way our older, more experienced counter parts are; the next, we just want to be able to be silly again. Our minds (and mouths) start running at triple speeds, starting to personify the Mario and Luigi brothers we grew up puppeteering on our Nintendo's. We want decisions to be easily handed to us, but we also want endless choices. We want the to hold high levels of responsibility, but want to be able to fuck up without any consequences...yet.
The 25 year old holds more contradictions than possibly any other age.
Case in point: Stephanie Wei and I last Saturday night.
After arriving at Devorah's party at the exact times the cops decided to make their grand entrance, and then debating on where we wanted to go for 30 min before dropping off our 20 year old guests into the hot club (where they would remain until we were summoned to return for the pick up), we are at the point where we are starting to realize that it's just ONE party missed, (albeit a feisty one we hear), and that there will be countless others. We know when enough is enough and we have had our fill. No more dancing, and romancing, and prancing, just be real.
So, feeling comfortably mature yet a tad (gasp) old, and, having stashed away the "younguns" with the other cool kids at Dune, our Saturday night consisted of cathing up on our own Social Life...the new issue of the magazine that is. That, and the gift bag, because we will never out grow free handouts.