The Skinniest Ol' Jeans in the Whole Wide World

Lately I've been reading through journal entries from days long past and coming across entries where I state I'm feeling a creative burst. Like "This film was inspiring," or "I just love the work of Ray Bradbury," or "I just bought some red go-go boots!" Others highlight a creative slump: "There's a void where my pen used to be," "I feel so behind the times, I don't even own a lomo," or "I got up early to work out today but instead made nachos."

When you're young you're working to become someone, either by working in college towards career aspirations or working spiritually or artistically or trying to find out who you are or whatever. You wake up in the morning and you don't know what to wear school. Your attempt at a heartfelt novel is lacking because all you can write about are 20-somethings addicted to drugs though you haven't tried any. When all else fails you turn to your digital camera, because you can hide the pain in your fashionable wardrobe and cheeky avatar.

Times have changed. Life is just different now. I don't write novels, my mom does. No more dating woes, now I date my husband. Taxes, bills, health care and groceries are suddenly upfront dealwithmenow concerns. I didn't have Facebook as a kid, it wasn't even around--just a Geocities homepage and three friends who were anything close to internetty. Now the whole world is on Facebook and inviting me to "I need your number!!" events. The first time I saw skinny jeans I thought "sicky gross gross." Now I have a closet full and groan if I have to wear those required flared khakis to work. Wait, no, I don't even have a khaki pants job anymore. Now Showing: My Life in Black Pencil Skirts.

I'm not old by any means, I'm 24. My egocentric journal entires are fewer and far between now that I'm done with my coming-of-age story. It's all of-age-and-counting from here on out. Now, I write about other people. My husband, my friends, my family, my desire to have children, my sister's desire to have children, the children I teach in Moscow. I get to write about Moscow! My husband and I are doing what most couples have to wait to do after retirement, after kids are raised and gone, after debt is reined in to a manageable state. But here we are, poor as can be, living it up in glamorous and gloomy Moscow.

I'm happier now than I was growing up.