Turning old

Well, I officiall turn old in... about two hours. Okay, for some of you (say, a certain American ex-submariner, or a certain ex-cadet) I'm still young, but 22 is old, dammit! I've been legal everywhere for a year (not that it really mattered, I've been legal in Canada for three) and I've been able to vote for four (not that it really mattered, the federal candidate in my riding always wins by a remarkably huge margin, and I don't care much for provincial politics). I have one more birthday while at RMC. In a few years, insurance companies will stop discriminating against me for being a young male, and will instead only discriminate against me for being male.

Seriously though, I've been considering things and in some ways, I just don't feel like an adult. RMC treats us like children, and my social life revolves around college students (from RMC and the other, lesser university across the causeway, mostly). I face very few of the realities of being an adult--and definately less than I did a few years ago, before I came to RMC. I'm not really scared about going off into the big, bad world. In fact, I'm pretty excited about it, even though it's pretty far off. I can't wait to use up all my money to buy a condo only to have Murphy rear his ugly, disfigured head and get me posted on the other coast. Or to meet the woman of my life three weeks before I head to the Gulf for six months. Or buy a really nice car (Audi TT, anyone?) using the money I'll make on said Gulf tour, and get it trashed by protestors while I'm gone on a month-long exercise fake-blowing-up American ships.

All in all, this birthday isn't any different than any other I've had since I graduated high school. No parties or anything, though I might be lazier than usual for one day. I'm too old to party on weekdays, anyway.