The pain of adulthood

Currently, I am revising for my upcoming A level exams (well, not currently as in right at this moment, as right at this moment I'm writing this, but you know what I mean). I'm also desparately putting off sorting out my finance form for university, which I know I really shouldn't do (but I'm lax on things like that). I need to sort out whether I need a student bank account, I need to find a job, I need to get good grades for uni and not spend all my time watching anime, but revising instead. I am now legally entitled to vote, which freaks me out as I feel I have the future of the country in my hands (every votes counts).

Why is growing up so difficult? Back in the olden days, girls my age didn't have to worry about education or getting jobs or even worry about money. Men did everything. And I am by no means anti-feminist, but wouldn't life just be so much easier if your mother would do everything for you like mothers in the past used to?

These days, we are supposed to be independent, doing things for ourselves and not constantly running to our parents for help. But as each day passes, I feel more and more like I can't do this on my own anymore. And yet I dare not ask my parents for help, as I feel they would be disappointed as I'm supposed to be the reliable one who goes ot uni and achieves great things (as opposed to my sister, bless her, who didn't do great in her A levels and who has applied for an open university course in archaeology. She is happiest sitting in a muddy hole in the ground poking at slightly discoloured soil with increasing excitement. Nothing could be worse, in my opinion)

But anyway, I'm off the point. When you're kids, life is a toybox. I remember being seven years old, sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by a menagerie of plastic animals in varying sizes, and my greatest worry was whether the horses would be safe standing next to the lions (although in my inaccurate representations, the horses far outsized the lions and could have so taken them on). Nowadays horses and lions are the last things on my mind, apart from the horses dragging me speedily through my life by my heels, and the lions of worry snapping at my mind. Life was so much simpler as a kid, drowing my sister's Barbies in the garden pond and eating play-dough. They never tell kids how tough it will be in the future.

But I don't see the point in complaining about getting old, either. Somebody I knew at high school was killed in an accident a couple of years ago, and he was only my age at time, and the same year, my sister's best friend died of illness (she was about 18 at the time). It made me think that, to all those people muttering about loosening skin and death, that getting old isn't a dreaded inevitablity, but the greatest achievement. You're only young once, and you're never old twice.

And hello to my TSR friends, who have been introduced to this sorry excuse for a blog =P