Torn Between Two Worlds

The last few months, my life has seemingly become torn between two worlds.

On the one side, I'm growing up.

Fortunately, I'm not getting any taller because I already tower over too many nice and otherwise totally datable boys. So, when I say "growing up," I do not mean my heighth, but rather I mean that my life is somehow becoming more adult-esque.

My best friend is graduated from college, and so she's all adulty and in search of a job.

My schoolwork has become very intesne and I find myself captivated by scholarly conversations with my professors and discussing things like grad school options and future routes.
Four o'clock in the morning comes much harder than it did freshmen year.

A large portion of my best friends have paired off into couples, which totally changes the carefree dynamic of the group-hang into a much more civilized and conciencious time.

My guy best friends are walking the stage this summer, and the infamous whore island where I did all my hanging is going to meet its demise at the hands of they boys' graduation and in May.

My childhood best friend is married and thus a ghost.

I am the last of my friends to turn 21, so whenever we cook dinner at the house they all enjoy a nice glass of wine legally.

Our discussions have fallen largely to careers, and futures, and plans, and fears, and finances.

But, at the same time, in the midst of growing up, it seems that we're all trying desperately to hang onto the ridiculousness that dominated our first years together. Despite the future hanging over our group, taunting us like student loans, we're still overwelmingly addicted to laughter and good times.

So even though I'm growing up, It's like I'm not growing up at all.

Last night, I was hanging out with the two girls that make Canyon a livable place for me, Tab and Robbie. And we were playing Wii and cooking dinner, and listening to rap music, and spelling funny sentences on the fridge with word magnets, when all of a sudden, Tab pulls out the single greatest thing ever from behind her couch.

A midget.

Just kidding.

(But remind me to tell you the midget story if I ever see you in person.)

She pulled out one of those triangular prisms that attatch to the top of a delivery car.
Apparently she'd stolen it from a Pizza Hut Delivery guy on Halloween night and totally forgotten about it.

Yes! Small town Saturday night just got a lot more fun.

It was always a mystery to me how these delivery prisms stayed attatched to cars. I found out that there are four hockey puck sized magnets on the bottom corners and so it'll stay stuck pretty good.

After sticking the prism to the fridge while deciding what to do with it, we put in a call to whore island and went to beckoned my red-headed partner in all things mischevious, Dallas Bass.

So, despite the fact that my world has gotten increasingly more mature, between researching the political, spiritual and social influence of St. Augustine and the barbarianism, brute military force, and unprescendented networking of Genghis Khan, discussing grad school and plans, and watching relationships develop and change all around me, I still find time to stick a pizza hut delivery prism on a cop car every once in a while.

Canyon PD:
a church van:the mayor of Canyon's car:a CAT:

University Police Department Cop Car:

There's no rush in growing up.
But it's also foolish to resist change.

I'm torn between the two.
Sort of wanting both.

But really,
I think that no matter how old I get,
no matter how my situation changes,

no matter the circumstance,
the problem, the issue, the needs,

there's always room for a laugh.

No matter what worlds I am in,
I pray that I am always sort of a child.