I’m sitting at the airport in Phoenix for my layover…

And I look over at this adult aged female person pull out her laptop after finishing a make shift meal of snacks sold at a stand that specializes in magazines and tacky souvenirs and start furiously typing away.

I went back to reading Kathy Griffin’s work of literary genius (Official Book Club Selection) not thinking much of it because I write up random word documents all the time (either for work, or this thing) and it’s not until I look over two chapters later and realize she’s still working on it… It’s only then that I realize that this person, who I’m guessing is about 22 (but don’t take my word for it; television has single handedly made it next to impossibly for me to accurately gauge the age [or reasonable attractiveness] of another human being) is writing a paper of some kind. That’s literally what it took for me to realize that I have not done “homework”, in the technical sense, in over four years and that I probably never will again.

This adult human is at this airport to catch a plane back to her school so she can continue going to classes or whatever for the next few months - at least. And I, who packed five pairs of shoes for this three and a half day vacation, am an adult who will never attend another class that isn’t somehow geared towards my carrer and labeled a ‘meeting’ or ‘seminar’.

You guys…I’m like, I’m a real life grown-up, kind of, actually.

Visiting David, talking with him and the other airmen, to the parents, explaining my job, taking work calls, and answering emails sporadically the entire trip is making me really feel it. I think I’m finally coming to terms with the realities of my adulthood, abject or otherwise, and it’s totally fucking weird.