They often say life imitates art and I think the picture below shows that has happened to me. In the fall, I went to a party with a theme of dressing like a dad (I.E. my phenomenal fit). Since that day internally, I have slowly begun feeling the dad qualities growing.
You may be shaking your first at me since I just turned 24 and while I cannot fully rebut that claim, the makings are there to say I may be entering my dad era (don’t worry Mom and Dad there isn’t anything more going on in this article to make that claim actually true).
That’s weird internal the crossroads I am at now. I have recently gone all-in on grilling (thanks to Donny), and cannot help but see Father Time peaking his head more and more into my life with each passing year.
I used to grill as a way of nourishment, a way to put food on the table. But now, it’s becoming a pastime for me, some may even say an art form. I just bought a grill and have been hooked on it ever since.
Now, I started college a few years late because of junior hockey. Naturally, all my friends on the newspaper staff refer to me as “old man” or “grandpa.” I looked past this as it just being jokes between friends, but with each passing day, it is starting to feel less and less like a joke.
The biggest thing they all make fun of me for is the way I stand.
I don’t know about you all but this is by far and away the comfiest way someone can stand. Arms on hips, and one leg slightly outward, but no this signifies me as an old man.
I fill out the New York Times (mini because I’m broke) crossword every day and find pleasure in completing it. If I really want to lean into this, the next logical step is to get a physical newspaper right?
Hell, even as I am writing this blog on the front porch of my apartment, I can’t help but feel some sort of anger toward the loud cars driving by. “This is a residential neighborhood!!!!” I am yelling in my head.
Even my drinks of choice of whiskey on the rocks or an IPA don’t paint a pretty picture for the non-dad claim. Gin and tonics (that has to be hereditary, thanks Dad) have recently become a mainstay and I am afraid that was my final nail in the coffin.
But alas, it is not all doom and gloom at the Carson household: I still have my hair (thank god), I don’t make terrible jokes (god I hope not), and I wear more than just polos.
(side bar I think I used a colon properly there so thats pretty sick. This series is already paying off).
While I still have my hair (thank god) I have no idea what could be next in this evolution.
Now is this just some sort of quarter-life crisis of someone nearing their senior year of college, or is this me now? Is my next step in life responding with “Hello good, I’m Carson” when I ask someone how their day is? Am I spiraling out of control over grilling and standing? Only time can tell.