... wait.... wait, don't hand me that Martini! You have to check my I.D, first!

I have been 21 for over 3 months now. Just long enough to start feeling comfortable walking into places without being paranoid that someone's going to kick me out for "looking like a teeny bopper", and not *quite* long enough for me to register that I'm supposed to be an adult.

Okay, I might be way off of the mark here, but tonight was my buddy's 21st birthday; a celebration of a coming-into-true-manhood and a just present of attempting to drown him in booze... and it occurred to me that the reason why I still felt awkward ordering a Martini is because I ... I, well...

... damnit, I don't want to.

Before 21, people called me a wuss - or similar sounding synonyms - for not drinking illegally. What, I didn't bong those cans of yellow water you call beer over at the frat house during Little 5 weekend? Blasphemy! Egad - I didn't do shots to celebrate everything from my 19th birthday to surviving my 19th day of college? Sacrilege! Bloody Hell - I've plumb forgotten to ask random upperclassmen to buy me bottles of strange liquid that'll make me choke and splutter and lose my grip on things!
... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Now, post the epic birthday, I still have the tolerance of most grandmothers who are not Irish, German, Polish, or Russian (despite my own Polish/German heritage), and here is why:
I DON'T CARE.

Sorry, folks. Do I enjoy a good beer now and then? God knows that's the truth. I won't turn down the offer for a Guinness, and if given the opportunity, will definitely order myself something hoppy. That being said... tonight, I called my friend, the birthday boy, before the festivities. Funds were running a little low, and alcohol is expensive... the two combined don't really mix well. Would he mind, I asked, if I came but didn't drink? I wanted to be there but I didn't want to go into the red, either.
My friend's an easy going guy who knows me pretty damn well - and he didn't mind a bit. Thus, my slightly more relieved mood as I went over to my boyfriend's place to make dinner. Small talk led to figuring out plans for meeting up with the birthday boy and his traveling fiesta, and I brought up the small, seemingly insignificant fact that I would, "surprise", not be drinking to save a little bit of money.

... This, apparently, was a negative surprise. J. looked confused.
"But... but, it's Josh's birthday."
"Right, but if I need funds for the rest of this week, I don't want to spend them on beer."
"Well, that's fine, but this is one of those times where you kind of need to drink."
..... mind you, I didn't record the conversation. I don't have the exact quotations, but the gist of the whole thing was that there are certain occasions where alcohol is not only necessary, but necessary.
... that makes sense.

In other words - situations where its unavoidable. One must drink, or fail at fulfilling one's part / destiny.
... okay... yes... weddings. Toasts. Supremely awful moments, but that's advocating using alcohol to solve one's problems, and that's not what I actually believe.

I understand that, on the occasion of someone's 21st birthday - that momentous occasion of making it to legal drinking age - one typically celebrates by knocking back a few pints and a dozen or so shots with one's friends. At the same time... Josh knows me. He understands that, given my light-weight stature, my typical sparse drinking habits, and my general lack of income (Hi, College), beer is less important than me actually being there to celebrate with him. He would have made fun of me for just chugging water all night, but he would have thought it amusing, not insulting.
... thus, when J offered to buy me a drink that night in order to spare my wallet, I was pleasantly surprised... but that wasn't the point. Yes, I was saving a few dollars, but I have a freakin' fantastic time hanging out with friends, with or without the addition of booze, and that was ultimately what I was going for. It's not in my nature to go out drinking for drinking's sake, and it's not in my nature to understand why I *have* to do that.

[shrug]

... and that might explain why a six-pack lasts over a month in my fridge.

brief brief brief brief brief... briefing

First: I might just be on here more often.
"might" is the key word in that sentence, but hey - I'm here right now!
..... [smiles?]

Second: it's Easter.
..... I should be at Church.
The Roman Catholic in me is balking at the fact that I'm still in my boxers and faded Indiana t-shirt, and not moving towards going to Mass. However... sometimes I want to bind, gag, and shove that Roman Catholic into the corner and just pepper her with rhetoric for a while.
... yeah, I have a few issues.

The point is not the joy in masochism, or self-torment / deprecation, nor is it a battle against the Church itself. I don't agree with all of its views, but I was raised to respect and appreciate the majority of the morals and virtues that it extols, such as loving thy neighbor, or honoring thy father and mother. My reluctance to go to Mass today is not a boycott, is not a gesture of defiance, is not me sticking *anything* to the man.

.... I just don't want to go without my family.
God and I get along pretty well, and I can't deny that I'm incredibly blessed to be as fortunate as I am. However... sitting in a pew by myself, without my family, without my cousins, without the laughing and joking and celebrating afterward, without the light-hearted, care-free nature that marked all of my childhood Easters... can't do it. I know that's not what religion is all about, but nothing is wrong with my faith, or my morality. Easter for me is not just about Jesus, it's about some of the best childhood memories that I have, and all of them involve family. I don't need the Easter basket: the chocolate, jelly beans, peeps, and adorable spring cards...
... what I need is to laugh so hard at myself or with the rest of family that I practically choke on my food. I need to hold hands with my little sister and big brother in Church and pretend that we're not all thinking: "ewwww...., I have to hold hands?! I'm not five anymore!" I need my mother to send me upstairs a half a dozen times to change my outfit, and my Dad to exasperatedly herd us all into the car. I need joy, laughter, and well... comfort with the rest of the Meiers / Skibickis.

Yes, Easter is Christ's Rise from the Grave, his ascension from the human to the Divine. The entire Christian and Catholic world rejoices, because He, and this Day, symbolizes our redemption, our freedom from sin and earthly constraints.

.... but it's also one of those days that I can't celebrate truly without my family. [shrug] Instead, I'll enjoy the sun and the slow, glorious day... and give thanks in my own way.
Happy Easter, everyone. :)