Twenty-one

Today was my twenty-first birthday, which is often made into a much bigger deal than a typical birthday is.

No, I did not get drunk. And no, I did not drink the rum I'd gotten as an early birthday present. Don't even go there.

But I did have a nice dinner with family and friends. My grandparents; Bev and her son Danny; Barb, Mark, and their daughters (including Laurel); my aunt Lisa; Marie; Jen and her friend Candice; and the entirety of my immediate family celebrated together at The Cheesecake Factory in Pittsburgh's South Side tonight.

Although I probably made a bigger deal about the vigintennial anniversary of my birth last year (at least on this blog, mostly because my age suddenly started with a "2"), I certainly had a bigger party (of sorts) this time. I mean, you only turn 21 once, right? Of course, you could say that for any year, really...

There were lots of pictures taken as I sipped my first sip of alcohol, a white zinfandel, at 19:24. I've always heard that alcoholic drinks are an acquired taste, and I can now fully understand why. Though I'm sure it'll grow on me eventually, I don't think I liked it as much as I could have. Perhaps it didn't "match" the food I was having.

But at least I can say I tried it.

Twenty-one doesn't really feel any different from twenty right now, except that my liver is probably saying, "What's this? A new chemical to process? What fun!" The real differences will happen during this semester: simultaneously looking for a job, an internship, roommates, and an apartment. All while taking classes and having resolved to blog more? I must be crazy.

That, and I'm really tired from having packed up earlier this morning and having come down to Pittsburgh to begin a new semester tomorrow. What a whirlwind!

Honestly, I think if we called our twenty-first birthday our "sesquiquattuordecennial," a word referring to "one-and-a-half periods of 14 years," we would intentionally not make a big deal about it, just because no one would want to say it.

Except for me.

But all that matters today is that I'm 21 now, right? I certainly won't take advantage of that fact too much, too soon...

Random tangent: I was looking for alternative birthdays using decimal-based methods the other day, and noticed that 11 September 2001 was my 5000th day of life (counting my birthdate as the first). That's a little bit creepy.