The theory is as you get older you're able to by more lavish things. Some things that come to mind are designer brand hand soap, $12 sandwiches, or my favorite one, expensive craft beer. This ability to afford these luxuries satisfies a notion that we're moving up in the world. We believe that if we can march into a soap store, walk right past the free 1 oz. sample soaps that we've so naturally grown fond of in our dime scraping days, and we reach for the top-shelf quality soap. We grab it, throw it down on the cashier's counter, and slide that shiny piece of plastic. BAM! We just bought lavish soap. Give us a pat on the back. we deserve it.
Now, I wish I knew this feeling and could prove this theory true. I'm years older, and can't afford these luxuries. I'm a rent payment away from being piss-poor broke. I don't feel down on myself at all. I'm actually happy to afford the "cheap" luxuries, if you will. I don't know about you readers out there, but I got the most unbelievable satisfying feeling the other day. I bought a 30-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon at a local wholesale beer store.
I'm Twenty-Two and Buying Cheap Beer
Euphoric. That describes my mood pertaining to popping the top on that first PBR after it was chill enough to drink. Not only did it satisfy my craving for beer and my budget requirements, but it solidified my new residence in this great city. This allowed me an outlet to drink my all time favorite beer. However, it also allowed me an outlet to share my old home with my new home. PBR was my beer of choice in college. It was mostly due to the low cost of it, but there is a certain appeal to drink this beer that you will always associate with your growing up in college.
You're on the brink of adulthood in college. This is when you shed your innocence, and emerge an independently dependable adult. You may want this innocence back one day. Actually, you will want it back. No questions asked. Usually, this feeling is triggered by a conversation with an old friend or participating in an activity. The unfortunate reality is that people tend to dwell on this feeling. They dwell so intensely that they engage in honest efforts to reacquire these minor moments of youthful euphoria. Obviously, this is the ultimate subjection to nostalgic quicksand.
I was a perpetrator of this condition. I was, until I read a little line from Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald. In his American classic, This Side of Paradise, he comes to a realization towards the end of the novel regarding the letting go of his past. He goes on to say, "I don't want to repeat my innocence, I want the pleasure of losing it all over again." As much as I enjoyed my youthful ignorance of the world, I've acquired a profound respect for the wisdom that I have developed over my twenty-two years of existence. I've wise enough to realize I love losing my innocence and ignorance. I adore the learning process, or so I've learned.
So yes, you've been exposed to my profound insights on growing the hell up. I enjoy it. Of course, there are times where I wish time would slow down so I could enjoy it a little more. It's times like this when I make my way to the heralded treasure chest of a refrigerator. I reach for the handle with the excitement of a child opening birthday presents. Just like that child, I have a great idea of what this package holds. For the child, it holds a childhood relic that they will always hold dear to their adolescent heart. For me, it holds the vessel that I will travel upon towards a past soaked in juvenile ambition and glorious immaturity.
As I pop that can and throw back the liquid that I'm so familiar with, my taste buds come into contact with the shedding of innocence. This was such a triumphant time in my life that I continue the trend as I triumph over life's obstacles. I triumph over my the retention of my innocence.
So here it is.
I'm Twenty-Two and Buying Cheap Beer.
Drink up all you cowboys and cowgirls.
Peace and blessins,
Rev Out
You're on the brink of adulthood in college. This is when you shed your innocence, and emerge an independently dependable adult. You may want this innocence back one day. Actually, you will want it back. No questions asked. Usually, this feeling is triggered by a conversation with an old friend or participating in an activity. The unfortunate reality is that people tend to dwell on this feeling. They dwell so intensely that they engage in honest efforts to reacquire these minor moments of youthful euphoria. Obviously, this is the ultimate subjection to nostalgic quicksand.
I was a perpetrator of this condition. I was, until I read a little line from Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald. In his American classic, This Side of Paradise, he comes to a realization towards the end of the novel regarding the letting go of his past. He goes on to say, "I don't want to repeat my innocence, I want the pleasure of losing it all over again." As much as I enjoyed my youthful ignorance of the world, I've acquired a profound respect for the wisdom that I have developed over my twenty-two years of existence. I've wise enough to realize I love losing my innocence and ignorance. I adore the learning process, or so I've learned.
So yes, you've been exposed to my profound insights on growing the hell up. I enjoy it. Of course, there are times where I wish time would slow down so I could enjoy it a little more. It's times like this when I make my way to the heralded treasure chest of a refrigerator. I reach for the handle with the excitement of a child opening birthday presents. Just like that child, I have a great idea of what this package holds. For the child, it holds a childhood relic that they will always hold dear to their adolescent heart. For me, it holds the vessel that I will travel upon towards a past soaked in juvenile ambition and glorious immaturity.
As I pop that can and throw back the liquid that I'm so familiar with, my taste buds come into contact with the shedding of innocence. This was such a triumphant time in my life that I continue the trend as I triumph over life's obstacles. I triumph over my the retention of my innocence.
So here it is.
I'm Twenty-Two and Buying Cheap Beer.
Drink up all you cowboys and cowgirls.
Peace and blessins,
Rev Out
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