Tomorrow I will finally be inducted into the exclusive club of being sans wisdom teeth. To alleviate the potential devastation about the loss, the dentist assured me that the two buds growing on my lower jaw are surprisingly "immature for my age," and should therefore not lead to much trouble. Couldn't help but feel a little bit gypped from that statement. My immature wisdom teeth. Of course they are.
But it's true, in the two months since I even learned I had wisdom teeth, that I feel as though I've been on an intellectual backslide. I am an alumna now, 4 years of countless papers and tuition bills behind me, but now I can't seem to shake the feeling that I've simply screeched to a halt after what only recently seemed like an endless jaunt down a lovely, albeit bumpy, back road. Then again, this feeling could just be another result of my tendency to over think. Living this semi-nomadic lifestyle leads one to question the purpose of transition periods to be anything but completely annoying. I didn't really think that I would ever need to use the word "antsy" after I hit double digits, but that is the only word that really touches on what the past two months have been. And yes, I am fully aware that I should be taking advantage of this time and embracing the unknown, but to be frank, fuck that. The people telling me that are the ones who romanticized the confusion to be an embodiment of the gradual fading of youth. In retrospect, it's a beautiful thing, I'm sure. Living it sucks.
But for the next two days at least, all I need to focus on is taking my pain meds and enjoying endless pudding cups. If nothing else, this summer will have been good for getting pesky, immature teeth out of the way.
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