QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS: IN WHICH I AM INCREDIBLY VAIN AND GIRLY, AND TALK ABOUT MY HAIR

Today I'm turning 25, and it's freaking me out a little bit. I know it shouldn't, because 25 is still pretty young in the grand scheme of things, but I can't shake the feeling that HOLY JESUS, SHOULDN'T I HAVE MY LIFE MORE TOGETHER?

It's silly, because I have a job I truly like in a field where I want to stay, a sweet, funny, wonderfully smart husband, two endlessly entertaining pets, and a roof over my head. But at the same time, I feel like I'd better step on it if I'm going to do all those important life things I want to do, such as go to grad school for my MFA in creative writing, start saving to buy a house (or at least a Japanese car), and get myself to a point where Jeremy and I aren't living paycheck to paycheck.

Which made me start thinking about all the things I wanted to do when I was a teenager, but haven't gotten around to yet. These are:

1. Get a tattoo

2. Pierce my nose

3. Dye my hair bright red

Basically, I wanted to be Franka Potente in Run Lola Run.

If you don't know me, let me assure you, I would be a very different person if I had done these things in my teenagerhood. I would be cool and fearless, rather than a bookish hypochondriac.

Then, the other day, it dawned on me that if I was going to do any of those things, I had better go ahead and do them before I turned 30.

I seriously considered getting a tattoo for a few months, but I started worrying that I would end up thinking my hypothetical tattoo was dumb and meaningless several years from now. And also that I would get hepatitis (thanks, Mom). That left the nose ring and the hair. For some reason, I feel like I missed my window of opportunity to get a nose ring when the '90s ended. I know several people who have nose rings and bring them off well, but on me, I think it would feel affected. Too Joan Osborne.

Have you guessed where this is heading?

I won't hold you in suspense any more, dear reader. Last Friday, I went over to the hairdresser and had them dye my hair, with my boss's blessings. (Thank goodness my town is known for its eclectic style. I don't think my hairdo would have flown in any other city in the Southeast.) No, I didn't quite go Franka Potente, but my hair is now a bit too funky for the corporate world, which is just what I was hoping for.
Yes, that's me, looking dorky.

I probably wouldn't have gotten myself psyched up to do this if it hadn't been for my friend Stephanie, over at Natural/Artificial, who dyed her hair peacock blue earlier this year. After she did it, I confessed I had wanted to dye my hair since I was 15, and she told me I had to do it as soon as I got my next paycheck. So, yes, I bowed to peer pressure, albiet not in a timely manner. Yet I couldn't be happier. I should have tried this back when I was in college, but I don't know if I would have enjoyed it as much then. And also, what would I have done when I turned 25? Thanks, Stephanie!

So now I've been vain and girly, as promised. Next time I'll be sure to include a thoughtful analysis of our political situation and an essay on Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged, but for today, I'm taking a break.

TONIGHT'S ENTERTAINMENT: OBAMA AND FLYING CATS

I was going to post the video of Sen. Obama's presidential nomination acceptance speech tonight, but it's not up on the web yet. So, in the meantime, here's another important news item that deserves your attention:

Winged Cats

Thank you, Boing-Boing, for making my life better every day.
(I wonder if Ursula LeGuin knows about this?)

But, seriously, I loved the speech. You can read the entire transcript here, but if you don't have the inclination to read through a 45 minute-long speech, this is my favorite part:

What -- what is that American promise? It's a promise that says each of us has the freedom to make of our own lives what we will, but that we also have obligations to treat each other with dignity and respect.

It's a promise that says the market should reward drive and innovation and generate growth, but that businesses should live up to their responsibilities to create American jobs, to look out for American workers, and play by the rules of the road.

Ours -- ours is a promise that says government cannot solve all our problems, but what it should do is that which we cannot do for ourselves: protect us from harm and provide every child a decent education; keep our water clean and our toys safe; invest in new schools, and new roads, and science, and technology.

Our government should work for us, not against us. It should help us, not hurt us. It should ensure opportunity not just for those with the most money and influence, but for every American who's willing to work.

That's the promise of America, the idea that we are responsible for ourselves, but that we also rise or fall as one nation, the fundamental belief that I am my brother's keeper, I am my sister's keeper.

That's the promise we need to keep. That's the change we need right now.

I can't describe how much better it makes me feel about our country and our world to know that Sen. Obama is running for office. Already, he's changing the world. If I can live in an America where we acheive half of what Obama wants to bring to our country - a health care system not designed to leave us behind, independence from foreign oil within ten years, a new emphasis on education and higher pay for teachers, new green industry jobs, and more - I'll know we've done a dozen times more good than we have in the last, disasterous eight.

And if he doesn't win the election, I've realized that doesn't mean we should give up on fixing those things. It only means we have to try all the harder. What I love about Obama's philosophy of governing is that he genuinely seems to believe that the way to lead a country is to inspire everyone to band together and help each other solve the problems we face. Having spent the last eight years being told to shut up and shop (so I supposedly stimulate the economy) while George Bush vacations on his ranch and ignores the country's economic and international tailspin, Obama's brand of politics is a welcome change.

This man has to win in November. Not because he isn't McCain, but because he is Barack Obama.

THE RADIOHEAD RULE

On Sunday, Jeremy and I went down to West End Bakery for breakfast, because we had nothing to eat in our house except a can of tuna fish, a bunch of dessicated grapes, and some milk.

West End Bakery is a cozy, bright place with hardwood floors and lovely coffee. They make organic bread, and, on this particular morning, had decorated each table with a small vase full of daisies. It's almost always packed with 20 and 30-somethings, kids in tow.

Given the clientele, the music they play tends toward the hip but non-intrusive. It wasn't until we sat down with our coffee and newspaper, and looked out on the sunny view of Haywood Road that I realized the music the staff had chosen for our Sunday morning was Radiohead's Kid A (2000).

A word of note to those not initiate to the mysteries of Radiohead: Kid A marks the fever pitch of the band's triumvirate of dystopian albums, OK Computer (1997), Kid A, and Amnesiac (2001). You could argue that Amnesiac is delves more deeply into the depths of human misery and OK Computer is a more devastating commentary on modern society, but Kid A is so good at being what it is that it could make a top-selling motivational speaker hurl himself from the Golden Gate Bridge.

I know all of this because I spent the years between ages 16 to 20 listening to Radiohead albums back to back and writing bad stream-of-conciousness fiction in a spiral-bound notebook. I still love me some Radiohead, but I've learned that, like a vodka tonic, Radiohead should never be consumed before noon, and rarely before dinner. As brilliant as the band is, most people don't want to hear the lyrics,

Flies are buzzing round my head
Vultures circling the dead
Picking up every last crumb
The big fish eat the little ones
The big fish eat the little ones
Not my problem, give me some,

while having a cup of French roast and a sausage biscuit.

Therefore, I am officially laying out the Radiohead Rule, which consists of several parts:

Part 1. Between the ages of 14 and 21, you can listen to Radiohead any time of day, rain or shine, as often as you want. Your parents may not understand you, but Radiohead knows where you're coming from.

Part 2. From age 22 to 29, you can listen to Radiohead as soon as the sun goes down, when you break up with someone or get fired, and at parties. You can also listen when it rains.

Part 3. After age 30, you should limit your Radiohead consumption entirely to the occasional evening or social event. Never combine Radiohead and breakfast.

Part 4. If when you reach age 40, Radiohead is still considered hip and ironic, you must surrender it to your children. They are now officially cooler than you. You can play it in the car for them, but they'll only take the CD for themselves and talk to their friends about how weird you are.

I hope these rules will serve as a groundwork for helping our generation learn to use Radiohead responsibly. In moderation, techno anthems of disaffected youth can be fun, but we have a responsiblity to the world not to create a generation of emo kids. Please, don't mix breakfast and Radiohead.

THE NORSEMEN NEXT DOOR

I came home from work this evening to find the parking lot next to our house packed with cars, and our neighbors in the middle of constructing a 20-foot viking longboat on their front lawn. As I walked past the row of vehicles on my way inside, I noticed plastic viking helmets with faux blond hair in the open trunk of a hatchback.

"Huh," I thought. "A longboat." And then I went inside to make dinner.

It's only now, as our neighbors are in the middle of erecting a mast and sail at 10:45 at night, that I'm beginning to question my own blase reaction earlier this afternoon. You know you've truly acclimated to this town when your neighbors and 30-odd friends construct a ship on their front lawn and you don't even bat an eye.