twenty-something

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Haven't you heard? I turn 25 on Tuesday. Happy Birthday to me.

25 marks the official end of adolescence, or so I've come to understand. The frontal lobe of my brain has (or soon will) finish its development. I will, physiologically, neurologically, finally, be a man.

Frontal lobe? What's that? Well, it's considered "our emotional control center and home to our personality" [neuroskills]. It sounds like a pretty cool part of the brain. Perhaps the coolest. And I was glad to learn that mine is finally complete. Let's take a closer look, shall we?

Frontal lobes have been found to play a part in impulse control, judgement, language, memory, motor function, problem solving, sexual behavior, socialization and spontaneity. Frontal lobes assist in planning, coordinating, controlling and executing behavior. [wikipedia]

An interesting article on writer's block demystifies the science in writery-terms better than I can:

...our mental ability to think beyond the moment, to remember the past or muse about the future, is a function of the frontal lobes. "A central feature of consciousness is the ability to control the fourth dimension, time. Humans can effortlessly move their internal mental set from the present moment to a past remembrance and just as easily project themselves into a future event." [Writing World]

What is this, a research paper? I thought it was my birthday.

It is, and that's what this is about. In short, a fully developed frontal lobe allows adults to fully and maturely see what's possible, today and tomorrow, and to make decisions based upon this.

Possibilities. Funny thing, I used to think that all I've ever seen was possibilities.

454 days, 4 hours, and 54 minutes ago, I lamented this dreaded birthday because, for me, once upon a time, it was more ominous than 30, 40, or even 75. All my life, I lived by the motto "Married by 25, Kids by 30" -- when I was straight, when I was gay, when I was single, when I was partnered -- that was the big plan. Thankfully I abandoned that strict mantra a while back, even rebelled against it. Rejecting one rigid path -- marriage -- for another -- not marriage, never. Man, was I ever a foolish early twenty-something!

At twenty-five, see... at twenty-five, I have the sudden clarity of a fully developed frontal lobe. It's all very Zen or Matrix or something. I see it all. I see the error in my ways.

I might get hitched. I might not. It's that simple.

Not very profound, huh?

But what's new is that I'm starting to figure out what I want, what I value, truly. It's a process that's been going on for a while, but it's all starting to make sense a little better. It's like I just got a new pair of glasses, the prescription just a little stronger, and I'm seeing the world just a little clearer. [Ed. Note: Please excuse this poor imagery, as I did, indeed, get new glasses today.]

Dust is settling, lobes are finishing. And I'm learning what kind of man I want to be. What kind of life I want to live. What kind of man I want to love.

And I know I want a true partner, a realistic relationship like those I envy. I want to write. I want a dog. I want a kid. I want a house -- no, a home, finally a home -- to settle in. And I think I want it to be in Vermont, maybe back here after years away, perhaps never leaving. And I'm learning that there are many ways to achieve all of this -- to be happy.

What else do I know?

Shit.

I don't want this all tomorrow. Tomorrow, after all, is my birthday. And tonight? In another life, tonight might've been my Bachelor Party. But come Tuesday, if I have a cake, what might I wish for as I blow out the candles? Now that would be telling...

None of this is new ground, really. I'm not going to kid myself and pretend I know anything about any of this. I have no wisdom, really, only my honesty. And though, sometimes, 25 feels old, even to an "old soul" like me, I know I've got miles to go. And that's actually pretty damn exciting.

My frontal lobe is telling me all sorts of ways to end this post -- thoughtful, insightful, perhaps profound conclusions -- but all I want to say?

It's getting late. I love my boyfriend and I love my friends. Happy 25th to me!

---

Snow Patrol - Chocolate
This could be the very minute I'm aware I'm alive