My avatar across the web: a photo of my feet in grey-white socks and brown sandals.

Ben Babcock

I read, write, code, and knit.

18

Is there something special about turning 18?

Heck yes.

Normally I'm not one to get excited about birthdays. One year older ... but the 18th is special since it's the age of majority. Apparently on September 19, 11:59:59 PM, I am not mature enough, but one second later I have magically matured to just the right amount. I am now mature enough to participate in the democratic process by ticking boxes on a piece of paper. I am now mature enough to die for my country if the need should arise. I am now mature enough to make my own decisions, or so they say. But who are "they" anyway? And let's face it--any of "them" have probably not been 18 for a very long time.

I don't really want to grow up. Growing up is scary. It means responsibility, leaving the safe world of adolescence behind. It means a different sort of arena for relationships, interaction, and criminal justice. Being an adult (that sounds very weird) is good in some ways though. Much less troublesome when it comes to doing the nitpicky stuff like conducting online transactions or signing legal forms that donate my soul to a needy demon.

Oh, and there's cake! ^_^