My Two-Cents: Nobody Likes You When You’re 23
This is the 3rd annual Ns2c Birthday Reflection Post. If you aren’t particularly inclined to learn all about the last year of my life, this is not the post for you! But before I roll into my Jordan year, I need to reflect on 20, 21, and 22.
20 is the year of waiting. One by one your friends leave you for the big boy bars. You spend the year thinking, Man, when will it be my turn? Then eventually it is your turn — and it fucking rocks! You cash in your scene card for the big night (reference The Scene Card for more clarification). It’s all the hype and more. You can go out to lunch and think, I really want a beer right now, and then — wah-lah! Beer me! That phase lasts for at least a month, and then the luster starts to fade.
What follows that? 22! And then 23. But what does this sequence really entail? Luckily, my dashingly handsome young college Anatomy TA summed it up:
"Unfortunately for us, 23 is the official end to being young. 21 is prime young, dumb, and stupid days. You can drink alcohol, you're a senior in college, and you and all your friends can go to the bar and watch the Huskers lose! Then you turn 22. You’re still in college — and c’mon, cut me a break, 22 is basically 21. Then you hit 23. What’s the excuse now? You’re an adult. Act like one. What a drag!!!"
-Alex Martinez, 1/8 PharmD + Rueben enthusiast + tetherball fanatic + 3rd place in 5th grade talent show
Though my Anatomy TA is wise in many facets, he forgets a key point. Being an adult doesn’t have to be a drag! I thought when I turned 22, my fun was over. I thought Djo was right... It was the end of the beginning. But turns out I had only scratched the surface. 22 was just the beginning of the rest of whatever is to come. Let’s reflect on the year in all its glory.
I started 22 bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and drunk! This is generally the recipe for all of the best stories. My big day coincided with the Nebraska spring game — a time of year when the entire state tailgates and fills a stadium for… a scrimmage. (If that’s not Midwestern beauty, I don’t know what is.) This dual event called for a bloody mary and mimosa bar. And was also the official start of my bloody mary addiction — an enjoyable, un-regrettable phase. If I could have a bloody mary every day for breakfast, I would die a happy gal. Unfortunately, if that were the case, I would also die an alcoholic. So bloodies will have to remain a sweet little treat for special occasions.
Why does this specific era of 22 stand out in my mind? Because it kicked off the final lap of lasts. There is nothing quite like your last month of college. The last weeks of having morning coffee with my roommates, who would soon live states away. The last time sitting on my porch, watching rows of die tables in action as college kids day drank under sunny skies. The last time I pulled out of my driveway in Turtle Creek. The time last seeing all the people who had become staples in my daily routine in the past 4 years before they headed off in various directions.
The end of college teaches you easily people can weave in and out of your life. How special a place and time can become when it’s only temporary. How important it is to cherish these moments while you're in them. On my 22nd birthday, my high school friend group all came to visit. And as we were shooting the shit before going out that Saturday, it hit me — this might be the last time we’d all have the freedom and schedules to travel and celebrate together in one place.
How lucky are we to have our friends all in one place, at one time, in a world where both of those variables are constantly shifting?
Go Big Red/Grad!
Bye Bye 5330! You will be missed <3
The next era of 22 was The Summer of Kate. A play on Seinfeld’s The Summer of George, where he gets fired and decides he shall do nothing all summer. Mine consisted of lots of cribbage. And breweries. Usually together! I soaked up what would likely be the last time I lived at home for an extended period — which meant the last time I lived down the hall from my siblings. And the last time being close to all my hometown friends before we moved into the next stages and places of life.
This era also included making bagels and bartending weddings — which, was surprisingly more fun than bartending in college. Since you have to be invited to a wedding, the people are slightly more upbeat. You do not, on the contrary, have to be invited to a bar. So the vibes (and reasons for drinking) vary wildly.
Our first summer with Ruby!
I <3 my friends!
JT & Rik devouring some street food
Brooke & Mom on our summer trip
This was the summer we became obsessed with board games & breweries! Kat was studying for her OAT, so fun study breaks were a necessary. And probably the reason she got into Midwestern School of Optometry, woooooo!
There is no bond like that between a dad and a dog he didn’t want to get.
+ a moment for the start of the bob era and the best cosmetologist I know!
Rider’s Annual Doggy Birthday Bash, planned by Brooke
After the Summer of Kate, the school year called. So I picked up, packed my bags, and moved to the Twin Cities. Whoop whoop! Post-grad life began.
My melancholy feelings towards leaving Lincoln and Sioux Falls was quickly replaced by the joy of what was to come. I began to meet the people who would fill my days for the next four years. This transition reminded me how cool life can be when you throw yourself into new situations. I went from knowing no one in the cities to having a whole new group of friends I adore. People who are kind, witty, funny, and fucking legit!
As the Seinfeld Joke goes… What do you call a doctor who failed out of med school? A dentist!
Now, as I sit writing this, I forget there was ever a time when these people weren’t in my life. This era of 22 taught me how exciting life is when you think of all the people you’re yet to meet — people you're going to love. How cool is that? How rad to think that at any point in your life, you’re just a couple of steps away from jumping into something you might end up adoring.
The penultimate phase and concurrent realization of 22 is something I’ve written about before. And this quote sums it up to a T:
“You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”
— Miriam Adeney
Though I love where I am now, there is a cost to shaving off little pieces of your heart wherever you go. But that cost is always worth paying. We are all just hog-podge creations, stitched together piece by piece by the people we love — and consequently, learn from. Some of the best parts of me are just the things I love about my people. And I hope that if I’ve done something right, the best parts of me live in the people I love.
NYE!
This brings me to my next lesson from 22 — how cool it is to watch the people you love grow and succeed. I got to see this in my sister over the past year. I watched her grow from an annoying pain in my ass to someone with a strong head on her shoulders. I don’t think I would’ve realized how much I love having Brooke in my life unless I had moved — because you have to be away from something to miss it. There are things I’ll always be proud of Brooke for: being quick-witted, genuine, and taciturn. But the thing I’m most proud of in the woman she’s become is her ability to stand up fiercely for the people she loves. That, in itself, is a trait that’s hard to obtain and top-tier when exhibited. I love you, Brookie! And this year has made me prouder of you than you’ll ever know.
The last era of 22 is the one I find myself standing in now. Thinking about how newly minted 22-year-old me thought 23 was old and uncool. I thought Blink-182 got it right when they sang, “Nobody likes you when you’re 23.” But if 22 has taught me anything, it's that getting old ain't that bad. And the only time “nobody likes you” is when you’re a bitch! Who said anything about 23? Let’s roll.
