Note: This post is written by both Annabel and I, so pronouns might get a bit confusing; in order to clear things up a bit, things that I write are in italics and things that she writes are in normal font.
So, I was looking at my driver’s license today and I noticed that, according to it, I am 18 years old.
This is incorrect.
I don’t act 18. I don’t think like an 18 year old; though, to be fair, thinking is a rare occurrence anyhow.
No. 18 is definitely wrong.
But, the problem is, I’m not sure what age I actually am. I’ve got a general idea of the range, however- I am definitely somewhere between 2 and 87 years old. That’s pretty broad, I know, which is what makes my life so confusing. I know I’m not in the middle of this range, though, because I’m not old enough for a midlife crisis and I’m too old to be writing letters to Justin Bieber (or am I??? more on this to come…). So let me amend that statement:
I am either 2 or 87 years old.
This isn’t my problem alone. Perhaps if I were the only one enduring this perpetual sense of age confusion, my suffering would be intolerable. However, Alex also suffers from this addling disorder and can relate to my turmoil.
Take, for example, our experience the other day. We had finally reunited in Boston after Annabel’s Alaskan camping trip, and we had some touring and catching up to do. We felt appropriately independent when her parents left us to fend for ourselves in the unfamiliar city, and we had grandiose plans of touring modern art galleries, walking arm in arm through Harvard square, and lounging around the Boston Common. I took it upon myself to decipher our route to the art institute, and with our map in hand we were off.
We felt pretty mature… or at least, we did until Alex asked, “Is that blue stuff on the map over there… water?”
As it turns out, Alex has the map reading ability of a four year old.
Needless to say, it took about five minutes for us to get completely and utterly lost.
Time: 11:00 am
Approximate age: 7 years old
It wasn’t long before we found that we both have the stamina and gumption of elderly ladies. After about a half hour of wandering around aimlessly, we were both exhausted, and had all but given up on our glamorous dreams of roaming the city. We were feeling quite sorry for ourselves at this point. Annabel was feeling stomach sick from the seafood we had eaten that morning, My feet were practically bleeding, we had no clue where we were going, and to make matters worse, it was about six hundred degrees outside, even in the shade.
We quickly found the most comfortable looking park bench and tended to our aches and pains.
Time: 11:30 am
Approximate Age: 77 years old.
Things were looking pretty grim … that is, until I spotted some kids playing around in a fountain nearby. An idea took root in my head. Within seconds, I had grabbed Annabel’s arm and bounded over the grass into the jets of water.
“Alex!” Annabel exclaimed, thoroughly scandalized, “you’re going to get all wet!! Not to mention you’re the only person here over the age of five!”
I honestly couldn’t bring myself to care.
Time: 11:45 am
Approximate Age: 5 years old
This pattern of drastic age swings continued throughout the day. At one point, Annabel pulled out her knitting (approximate age: 60) and we both sat listening to classical music for a bit (approximate age: 85). Not even fifteen minutes later, we were engrossed in the Disney Channel TV series Phineas and Ferb (approximate age: 10)
That night, we were invited to go to a concert with some friends who are about our age. But, by the time we got there (me still sopping wet from the fountain and Annabel with her knitting needles), given the day’s confusion, we weren’t quite sure if we fit in anymore.
Time: 6:00 pm
Approximate Age: ?????
Here's a graph