playing grown up

i remember when i was little (read: elementary school), i used to get yellow legal pads and my parents' folders and calculators (the cool kinds that printed on white paper spools) and play office. i would sit at the desk and act important, scheduling imaginary meetings with non existent clients, talking with my invisible secretary and conference calling with vips that i made up.

it kind of feels like i am ten again.

except this time i moved across the country, started my first job, learned how to cook, rented an apartment and today, bought a mattress.

ever since i got here, i feel like a fraud in my own life. somehow the real work that i do, the tangible food that i cook and the all too certain rent check i write seem like the actions of a character that i am simply playing.

i don't consider myself an "adult". sure i can act like an adult, but more often than not, i still feel like a kid. not too long ago, i sat at the pi phi dinner table discussing the exact moment one reaches adulthood. graduation, financial independence, parenthood, trauma? whatever the answer, most of my friends and i decided that we certainly had not reached that stage. how are we expected to let one ceremony, tearful goodbyes, 3000 miles and a mattress take away our right to be a little irresponsible?

today, i went to a farmers market. i went to a museum. i read a book. i cooked dinner. i discussed modern art with my roommates. adult? no, thank you.