Hi Geoff, it's me, house phone, pick up and grow up

I've been thinking a lot lately, which could be attributed to the seasons changing or the change of drink choice to scotch. Incoherent rambling is thought provoking none-the-less, so turn that stool upside down and politely go sit down.

Mainly I was thinking how in three short months I'll be twenty-four years old. That will make me six years younger then the "new twenty", five years too old for the,"I'm sorry, I'm a teenager" excuse.

But with age comes responsibility, just ask my 73 hour work week. While pondering the evolution of the dynamic relationship that is childhood friendships over a 15 year old bottle of Glenfiddich, i came to two realizations. 1: If you don't like run on sentences just stop reading this blog right now. And 2, big change moves in small increments and is great at disguising itself as minor differences.

The apartment I live in now has a house phone. So far, I've seen only two advantages to having a house phone. The first being that I get horrible reception in my bathroom so when I'm dumping out it's convenient to pick up the house phone without having to worry about my call being dropped while I'm in the midst of a digression about how the designator hitter is so much better than pitches hitting; And the second being that when the the phone inevitably slips off my shoulder and in to the toilet for the third time in three years, house phones don't cost $180 to replace and leave me with a week full of "why don't you answer my calls anymore" voice mails.

But inevitably the house phone is a sign of growing up. With many of my friends moving in with the ball and chains, it leaves me try to decipher in a 3am drunk dial which of your numbers will be appropriate for me to leave a "I just want to talk, why don't you love me anymore I love you..." followed by a "You know what, it was never that good anyway, I gotta go she's phoning in, peace. ps- that homemade dinner was stouffers on a fancy plate". This message is much less embarrassing when played the next morning on the privacy of a cell phone as opposed to an answering machine in front of other people who will judge me.

But finally, I miss the days of just being able to call up my buddies and say "Hey asshole, come in to my room" or "Deadbeat, meet me at the community building in ten minutes" or "When you left this morning you took my favorite sweatpants, and what did i tell you, I liked to be tucked in after you leave".

With our youth fading further and further in the rear view mirror I find myself calling and asking, "Hi, is John home?" or "Do you think Jimmy could come out and drink some beers tonight?" And with the birth of house phones comes the death of our adolescence.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, beware of change masked as differences, never ignore a call from the past, and when maturity rings you'd better be answering; just don't be afraid to put it on hold.