#3 - Age and maturity.
I woke up to this beautiful Tuesday morning in sheer helplessness; I had unknowingly stepped into the eighteenth year of my life. Age has compelled many to embrace Life’s obligations, whether you like it or not, and I was certain I did not enjoy coercion. The only saving consolation lies with the fact that I believe I am matured enough to handle the looming adulthood which approaches at an alarming rate. Sadly, I cannot say the same for everyone around me.
Being eighteen definitely sets us apart from the average eight year old, since we have long lost the luxury of being spoilt on account of our tender age. With the fresh onslaught of obligations, one would have expected to feel somewhat wiser or at least more matured. Alas, this is often not the case, because coming of age merely introduces one to the responsibilities of being ‘older’. A sixteen year old may be well aware of the need to decide his or her next step in the educational pursuit, but perhaps also lacking the sense to choose according to personal interests instead of following the crowd.
The discrepancy between age and maturity is very much evident in the nitty-gritty of everyday life, too. It has become a common sight for two girls in their late adolescent years to shriek and titter (how they manage both simultaneously is mystifying, indeed) in public as though they were seven year olds. Some would even have hardly condoned such behaviour in seven year olds, much less for these teens. Apparently, being nineteen does not necessarily mean one has grown more conscious of proper manners.
I distinctly recall from my kindergarten days, when friendship bordered on the much feared ‘I don’t friend you!’ phrase that could make or break it. As children, we moved around in droves and craved acceptance from our peers; as late teens, we form seemingly exclusive cliques and continue the ‘I don’t friend you!’ legacy. Is it not amazing how the years do not make us any wiser or sensible, neither did we outgrow the childish ways of yore?
I turned eighteen without a miraculous touch of wisdom from God, and I definitely did not attain enlightenment and decide Life is all about acing modules. In my heart, there lies a child like any others. My favourite phrase remains, “Let me wail like a petulant child and have my way.” I try to curb the childish ways from within, for I have come to accept the fact that being older does not mean I automatically have heightened sensitivity and sensibility.
Age and maturity are two separate entities.
Being eighteen definitely sets us apart from the average eight year old, since we have long lost the luxury of being spoilt on account of our tender age. With the fresh onslaught of obligations, one would have expected to feel somewhat wiser or at least more matured. Alas, this is often not the case, because coming of age merely introduces one to the responsibilities of being ‘older’. A sixteen year old may be well aware of the need to decide his or her next step in the educational pursuit, but perhaps also lacking the sense to choose according to personal interests instead of following the crowd.
The discrepancy between age and maturity is very much evident in the nitty-gritty of everyday life, too. It has become a common sight for two girls in their late adolescent years to shriek and titter (how they manage both simultaneously is mystifying, indeed) in public as though they were seven year olds. Some would even have hardly condoned such behaviour in seven year olds, much less for these teens. Apparently, being nineteen does not necessarily mean one has grown more conscious of proper manners.
I distinctly recall from my kindergarten days, when friendship bordered on the much feared ‘I don’t friend you!’ phrase that could make or break it. As children, we moved around in droves and craved acceptance from our peers; as late teens, we form seemingly exclusive cliques and continue the ‘I don’t friend you!’ legacy. Is it not amazing how the years do not make us any wiser or sensible, neither did we outgrow the childish ways of yore?
I turned eighteen without a miraculous touch of wisdom from God, and I definitely did not attain enlightenment and decide Life is all about acing modules. In my heart, there lies a child like any others. My favourite phrase remains, “Let me wail like a petulant child and have my way.” I try to curb the childish ways from within, for I have come to accept the fact that being older does not mean I automatically have heightened sensitivity and sensibility.
Age and maturity are two separate entities.
posted by Lady Lazarus at 10:50 AM
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