Click the pictures to see my baby album!

In just three weeks I will no longer be a teenager. Another decade of my life will have passed. On February the eighth, I’ll be twenty years old. It’s a little bit scary, a little bit exciting, a little bit country, a little bit… sorry, scratch that. I just can’t bring myself to quote the Osmonds.     I feel that this birthday is monumental. Most people have told me that 21 is far more important, but not to me. I’m a Mormon, so it’s not like I’m looking forward to the legal drinking age. Whereas twenty, that’s a milestone, that’s two decades of life on this planet. That number carries some weight. I’ll no longer be a “child prodigy”, instead I’ll be a dreaded twenty-something.

    Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about that. A comedian once said that twenty-somethings are often victims of inflated egos, confusing youth and beauty with wisdom and experience. Thus, he said that “twenty-somethings should just strike a pose and shut the hell up.” I can’t say I completely disagree with him. But on the other hand, while I’m shirking the stereotype of “Teenager”, I’ll be faced with this unfortunate label: Twenty-something. It’s daunting, but not because I’m afraid of the inherent responsibilities – heck, ever since the age of twelve, I’ve felt old. There’s something about facing death that can speed up childhood. Rather, I’m afraid of the perceptions other people will have of me. Will that number get in the way of my abilities to create, manage, and lead?

I can’t help but think back to when I was seven years old, crawling up a hill in my Mississippi neighborhood, talking with my friends James and John Childress about what year it would be when we would turn twenty. I’m here and it’s nothing like what I expected. Getting older by the numbers is such a strange sensation, especially when your existence has been so far from normal, so far from what you expected. I never had the typical progression of first to second grade, junior high to high school. When I was little I used to think my life would be like a John Hughes movie. I’d go to high school, I’d be in a play like my brothers were, I’d hope and pray that my high school sweetheart would be as cute as John Cusack. I wasn’t expecting to be popular, but I wouldn’t be a wallflower either. Prom would, of course, be wonderful, then John and I would move away to the same college. When the movie faded to black, you’d just know that everything would fall perfectly into place.

    In all honesty, I’m glad I skipped that. There were two unique plot points in my childhood that have changed everything – the decision to be home-schooled at age seven, and The Toe at age eleven. Without those two factors, I may very well have taken a crack at a John Hughes movie of my own. While things may not always be pretty in pink, I’m happy with who I am today. The ends have justified the sometimes painful means. And as I look ahead to the next ten years, I can only hope that my life continues to be unique, that I can shun the ordinary and find success.

    I have a distinct feeling this is going to be a monumental year for me. I can’t tell you how many dreams I’ve had that before the year is out I’ll find myself in a new city, engaged, and happily continuing my work to help others. But what can I do to start this decade off right? I have literally no concrete idea of what to do to make this birthday special. I’m strapped for ideas and I’ve been contemplating this for ages. Please, please people, I need your help. Can you think of anything I could do? I’m thinking it might be nice to go back to the state where I was born – North Carolina – and do something there, but I can’t think of what. Any other ideas will be welcomed and appreciated.

    Where and who will I be in the next ten years? The next twenty? It’s exciting, exhilarating, and I can’t wait to find out.