拒馬˙磨坊賺美金˙威呀心杯杯

I don’t think anyone’s ever too young to decide who they want to be and how they want to live their lives.

And I also don’t think that saying “No” ever gets easier, in fact, it gets harder as you grow older. One of the sad discoveries that come with growing up is that out of the blue it hits you: it’s not that there’s only black and white, it’s just that grey seems to be the color that’s easier on the eye.

All people have ever wanted was to find shortcuts to make their lives easier: so they put tracking devices on their dogs, on their kids, on their grandparents, ‘cuz it saves all the hassle of actually tending to them and caring about where they are and what they do during the day. They can be on the loose anywhere, and you’d still be able to track them down in a jiffy. So they take the elevator even though they’re only going one floor up and still they’d rather wait for that extra 2 minutes just for the lift to finally register and reprogram itself to respond to its next load. Cuz afterall, it does save you the energy from going up that few flights of stairs just so you’ll have more breath to waste when you gossip and bicker and complain and sigh about random things in life, which literally, is everything. So people decides to buy an Apple laptop just on the whim without actually looking into their actual needs and what the computer comes with. They simply piggy-back on what their friends and their friends’ friends say about this alien product which they have never used in their life, simply because it’s just easier to extract information that has already been classified and digested and regurgitated for you. So people deliberately rule out the option of saying "No", cuz it's just easier to go along with the flow and not have to worry about the consequences after you spell out the two-letter magic rejection.

So I backed out of a potential drinking party tonight. Nothing big, just some classmates, a couple bottles of vodka, and lots of juice. Rather homey and inviting, compared to any given Friday-night-action-packed-party scene in downtown Chicago. In fact, even the most considerably low gauge of action on any level was barely detectable, that is, unless you want to count that lame game of Taiwanese Mafia played, to everyone’s enthusiasm.

But the thing is, when it’s not your thing, it just isn’t.

It’s not exactly anything that’d deserve a gold star or a pat-on-the-back, nothing heroic like standing up to peer pressure and being free from unwanted social expectations. Simply put, when it comes to alcohol, I know what the stuff tastes like, I know I can take it, and I know I don’t like it.

At the end of the day, it actually can be that simple: a mere equation of what you want and what you don’t. I’d be lying if I said that the brief exchange of remarks that were dripping with just the slightest sarcasm and disapproval (a tinge bit of dubious shock: who in their twenties and in their right minds back out from a home drinking party and a potential all-nighter dunked in good-old-fashioned cheap booze?) right before I said I was gonna leave had no effect whatsoever on me, because it did, because for a split second there I paused and hesitated and thought about going through with this. But then I’m just not that person anymore, not that I ever was the party type, but I guess certain clarity does come with age, however tragic that may sound.

At the age of 23, I have come to the realization and the reconciliation with the truth that getting wasted on a regular basis and overworking your liver and in general party till day breaks simply because you want to and you can, isn’t even close to being “cool” and sure as hell aren’t the synonyms for being young. Who are we kidding? We are simply just not that young, and will never be young enough again to afford this kind of recklessness.

I looked into those baggy and dark-circled and wrinkly and tired eyes that tried to mask that glint of sneering and accusation for my early retreat tonight, yet could not disguise the underlying fatigue and hollowness, and I just wonder in ten years time when they look back on this very moment in history, would they have second-guessed their twenty-something genius of an idea of relishing youth? Would they know that while they had felt that they had all the vigor and vitality, enough to conquer the world, overflowing that they simply had too much to spare, that their acts of reckless free-spiritedness was only fast-tracking them down the one-way street to decay? Probably not.

It might seem awkward if not slightly embarrassing that a twenty-something-year-old is this quick and voluntary to take on the lifestyle that you would expect only from people facing mid-life crisis or worse, but I feel confident enough that though they may challenge me for not living up to my age, I can rebuttal simply by looking exactly like I am in twenty year’s time.

Now, that’s my genius idea of relishing youth and living the good life.