In Which I Share Some Self-Indulgent Musings on Turning Twenty-Five

What’s strange about the way we measure age is that by the time you “turn” a given age, you’ve actually already completed that many years of life. So when I turn 25 tomorrow, I’ll have already been kickin’ around this ol’ planet for a quarter of a century. It’s a little unsettling to think about. I’m sure that all you, ahem, mature readers are shaking your heads and calling me a whippersnapper, but you’ve all been there. You’ve celebrated (or maybe tried to deny) a birthday that seemed monumental in some way, that made you step back and say, Wow.

For me, it was my last birthday. Turning 24 signaled the undeniable end of my early twenties, and the fact that I was in my mid-twenties seemed impossible and laughable and terrifying. When I was younger, I naively decided that 24 was the age when I’d have it figured out, it being things like A Job and Marriage and Life in General. I know, I know – laugh away. It’s silly to think we’ll ever have it all figured out, right? When it became clear that my grasp on it would be as tenuous at 24 as it had been at 23, turning 24 became something I couldn’t help but dread. I felt unsettled and, well, old.

I didn’t want to give up my early twenties. I associated those years with a sort of post-college, pre-adulthood time of fun and freedom before I’d settle in for the long ride of adulthood, for it. Not that my early twenties were all frivolity and fun; I got a real job and starting paying back my loans and bought a car and did all those big-girl things that, let’s face it, mark an unceremonious and undeniable entrance into adulthood. But I still felt young, fresh out of college and ready to take on the world. 24 meant moving into the years when I should start settling down and being responsible… or something.

But then I turned 24 and nothing changed and I realized that 24 is just like 23 and 22, except I more often forget how old I am and more of my acquaintances are starting to get hitched or pop out kids. So I decided to stop fretting about my age. And I shed the idea of setting what are inevitably arbitrary deadlines for myself, because life has an infuriating way of laughing at your deadlines, and those deadlines have a way of passing by while you chase something else. I haven’t figured it out yet, and I’m not settled yet (whatever that means for me), and I’m fine with that. I still have so many countries to visit and things to try and people to meet before I put down roots and stay put. And that’s okay.

With my new, refreshed, and realistic outlook, turning 25 is kind of exciting. While I’m a little shocked that it’s happening already and a little weirded out by the number itself, I’m also looking at it as an opportunity. I have a better sense of who I am now than I ever have before, in a large part thanks to S, whose candid, clear perspective helps me think about myself from a slightly less self-effacing point of view than I usually do. And I’m ready to try new things and accomplish so much.

With that in mind, I’ve spent the past few months compiling a list of 25 things I will do when I’m 25. Making it public is nerve-wracking for me, but I want to be accountable for it. I want to talk about things I accomplish, and I want to cross them off my list. And even if I try something and it’s a big, giant failure, that’s okay. I’ll still have tried it.

So here’s my list of goals, full of silly things and serious things and everything in between. And yes, I know that there aren’t actually 25 items on here – some of them just aren’t things I want to share with the whole wide world. :)

  1. Pay off a loan.
  2. Sew myself a dress.
  3. Blog at least five times a month.
  4. Drive in a big city.
  5. Send people birthday cards and gifts on time.
  6. Work out weekly.
  7. Learn how to use InDesign.
  8. Knit myself a sweater.
  9. Do more creative writing.
  10. Start making Christmas gifts during the summer.
  11. Make a pie with a lattice crust.
  12. Re-learn how to crochet.
  13. Get another tattoo.
  14. Read more poetry.
  15. Take the GRE.
  16. Try hot yoga.
  17. Start and maintain an Etsy shop.
  18. Consistently make some of Moria’s food.
  19. Knit a pair of socks.
  20. Call (or write to) far-away family and friends more frequently.
  21. Visit a new country.
  22. Do more hands-on volunteering.

There it is. Maybe this seems like an odd post for a mostly-food blog, but I think it’s relevant. There’s the accountability thing I already mentioned, for one. But I also just feel like sharing more personal things about myself here, not just meals I eat or desserts I make. My favorite blogs are the ones that seamlessly blend personal anecdotes with food-related musings and chatter, and I’d like to incorporate more of that on here. Plus, one of my goals is to post more often, as you can see. :) I’m excited to get started with my list, and I’ll check in when I accomplish a particularly meaningful or memorable goal!

If you’ve read all this, thank you! As a token of my appreciation, here’s a picture of Moria after her most recent (and most drastic!) haircut:

I swear she’s not really grimacing. She just has a snaggletooth.


13 thoughts on “In Which I Share Some Self-Indulgent Musings on Turning Twenty-Five

  1. Happy Birthday #1!
    Yes time does march on. It may be a cliché, but is true. It seems just a few days ago we brought you home from the hospital, our last father daughter dance, graduations, you moved away.

    I hope you are successful with you list of 25, especially the missing 3 ;-) Maybe I will be able to help with a few of them but most of all have fun trying.

    I love you sweetheart and miss you so.



  2. I’m so glad you were able to reflect on turning 25… You will certainly find that you’ll reflect on turning 29, 30, 35… and so on… I’m turning 39 this year and am doing the same thing, but turning 40 is actually exciting to me!

    I really enjoy reading your blog (I likely will not try many of the food you eat, but I enjoy reading about it)… :) Keep posting!




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  4. Happy belated birthday. I’m 27, and married, and buying a house, and I still don’t feel like a grown up. For a few years I’ve wondered, impatiently, when that feeling would come. But now I’m sort of okay with the potential that I will never really feel like I’ve got it sorted out.


  5. It was comforting to read about a fellow quarter-lifer who feels similarly about turning 25. When I was young, for years and years I thought of 24 as my “ideal age.” I don’t know why, but I distinctly remember being 13 and thinking, “Oh, it would be sooooo cool to be 24.” Anyways, time marches on. I’m 25 and I still feel like a really young person. I definitely don’t have things figured out (whatever that means).


    • I’ve never really used the term “quarter-lifer,” but it’s a good one!

      I think the big secret is that it takes a long time before you stop feeling like a “really young person” (or maybe just a young person) – and that’s really what matters, not how old you actually are. The other big secret is probably that very few people ever really figure things out totally and completely. ;)


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  8. Pingback: Turning Twenty-Six… with Tacos | la vida vegga

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