Low on the Go!

tween.

Some days, I live the life of a full fledged adult: I think about things like home insurance, I pay my bills, I do groceries and cook for one, I think about budgeting and leases. Other days, I live the life of a child, cowering under my sheets, telling my parents not to get off the line with me because I'm convinced a monster is in my closet (read: man in the house).

I kid you not, this happened just last week, when my power unexpectedly cut out at 1am in the morning. And I know you might laugh at this and think, "Silly little Lydia." But hey, just yesterday, there were a multitude of cop cars in the alley right behind my house. And obviously, the police must think my neighbourhood is a sketch pad, because they've totally increased patrolling in my area. Some say this should give me comfort.

It doesn't.

To me, it says that the police are thinking what I'm thinking, "Wow, this neighbourhood is TOTALLY sketchy and is getting more sketchy, so we'd better do something about it fast before we get whipped with a lawsuit the size of Kentucky."

I digress.

See, this is the problem. I'm a girl stuck in my early twenties, living the life of someone in their mid-twenties, but at times just wishing I could go back to the bank of m&d and build invincible forts with blankets. So what small group at church do I go to?

Do I go to the one where everyone is in their mid-late twenties, married and churning out kids like wonka bars, but also thinking about home insurance, bills, leases and how to unclog the kitchen sink? Or do I go to the one where everyone is around my age, or just a bit younger, but still living the life of a university student where the bank of m&d is still open, where mum and dad (generally) aren't half a country away and where, in some cases, the hardest thing about cooking isn't the cooking (because the cooking stage isn't even accessible), but the cutting of mushrooms and the opening of cans of frozen concentrate. And this is the question: fun vs. challenge. Because let's be honest, maturity isn't all that fun. Home insurance isn't all the fun you might think it is, and though budgeting may sound like an adventure and a half, I'm pretty sure that unless you're a yellow on the Birkman, it isn't all it's cracked up to be. But there's some sort of a challenge missing, when the topic of the day is poo: the colour of poo, the smell of poo, the texture of poo.

I suppose this is what inevitably happens when you're a tween. Britney, I never thought I'd agree with you, but you're right. I'm not a girl, and I'm not yet a woman. Props to you. *punches fist in the air and then gags.*