As I stated in previous entries, I’ve never been a person to say “this is mature, that is immature,”  or “I’m too old for this, I’m too young for that”  but it seems as Year Forty draws closer, I’m getting more annoyed at maturity level of – not so much friends of mine – but friends of friends of mine.

One thing I have always prided myself on is my choices in friends.  My friends and loved ones are people for whom I would lay down in traffic.  I can say with a certain degree of confidence that they would do the same for me.

I get.  People change as they get older.  I’m sure if  really sat down and thought about it, there are a lot of things that I did ten years ago that I wouldn’t consider doing today.  Staying out all night, getting drunk, the immature drama that people are subjected to by people who are not worthy of being called friends.  Nothing real specific here:  I’m just noticing things that would have seemed important to me a few years ago are, quite frankly, really immature.

Even when The Auteur, Phred, The Old Man and I went to Opening Day last week:  A few years back, I would have gotten hammered before the game.  This year I hardly even drank.

I know this is all just coming across as me bitching – and it’s probably is – but it’s been on my mind for the last few weeks.

Have I finally reached a point where I consider myself to be an adult?  Is it possible that I’m coming to terms with my adulthood while simultaneously experiencing a mid-life crisis?