25

25. It sounded so old just a few years ago. Maybe it sounds even older now that I am 25, and am creeping ever closer to 26 (and nothavinghealthinsurancethroughmydadohmygod). Maybe to you it doesn't sound old at all, because you have Perspective.

But I'm 25. It's the oldest I've ever been, and the youngest I will ever be again. 

25. Lordy.

My life is full of goals, adventures, love, routine, and laughter, but sometimes one experience or another stands out. Sometimes I have an experience that makes me realise I am, in this moment, so very, very 25. 

Please see: Lady Gaga.

Dash, Aslan and I went to see her concert on January 14th, and it was phenomenal. Aslan came up from Portland, I got out of work early (thanks, K), and all three of us convened for The Event. 

Because Dash and I were coming straight from work, we were dressed in our street clothes. We looked fine, of course, but... not right for Lady Gaga. We had brought costumes, and were debating where to change when we found ourselves, almost by accident, in the Tacoma Dome parking lot. Once in, we were certainly not leaving. 

And so, because we are 25, because we came from work, because we love Lady Gaga and costumes and dancing and make up and fun, because it was the only option, really, we changed in the car. We were transformed. From Responsible Adults by day, to lace-tulle-and-spandex clad Creatures of Music. We applied make up by the dome light of the car, using gold eyeliner, bright shadows, and lipstick liberally, even though we couldn't quite see what were doing. I fell over backwards, trying to pull on a stiletto boot in the back seat of my quite-small car. There wasn't far to fall.

In the concert we sang, we danced, we cheered and stomped our feet. 

And then, after the concert,

when our voices were horse,

and our feet were sore

After the concert we drove home, still singing. We made it to bed by 1:30-- joyful, exhausted, exultant.

And four hours later, I crawled back out of bed-- to go to work.

Because I'm 25.